Someone I Used To Know
by Agent Striker
Summary: A mysterious woman shows up at the NCIS: San Diego office demanding to see Nate, but before she can explain, she's shot and critically injured. Now it's up to the NCIS: LA team to figure out why someone was out to get her while Nate deals with his past. A lot of background in Ch. 1, but there'll be more revealed as we go. A little romance thrown in there, too! Nate-centric fic!
1. Chapter 1

**So, I've been on a short hiatus from writing on FanFic, but I am now back and bringing a rather half-cooked idea for a fan fic! To tell the truth, I've been fighting some writer's block and it's been hard to write my own name…so can you be gentle with me?**

**And don't sass me if I get a detail wrong here or there, I'm only about ¾ of the way through NCIS: LA season 2. And I really miss Nate always being there. But I also like Nell…can't we have them both?! **

**Indeed we can. Let's just say in my story, Nate did go away, but he's also coming back! And we're going to delve into his past some more! **

**A mysterious woman in Nate's past? You're probably thinking **_**NO WAY **_**but it's totally true! Before there was NCIS: LA, there was just Nate Getz…**

* * *

The girl waiting in the rusty old pickup might have been a picture from an earlier era. She had timeless beauty that might not be noticed on a first casual glance. It was the second glance that got you.

Past the wildly, wavy, barely controlled honey-blond hair, lightly tanned skin, high cheek bones, and hidden behind the Aviators perched on the end of her lightly freckled nose, were her eyes; probably the most unique feature she had.

If you caught the left side of her profile, you'd catch a glimpse of a pretty hazel eye, intelligent and dreamy at the same time. Catch a glimpse of her right-side profile, and instead of another hazel eye, there was a sea-foam green eye, a fact that occasionally threw people for a loop.

Long ago, a doctor had called 'the condition' Heterochromia Iridum and it was supposedly genetic in her case. Didn't really matter than, didn't really matter now. She didn't partically like having two different colored eyes (heaven knew how many times she'd been asked about it), but she also didn't feel the need to cover them up.

Almost dozing in the afternoon sun, she waited patiently outside a tall brick building on campus, the radio playing softly in the background. She watched the glass doors, until a herd of people pushed out into the sunshine, wincing at the bright light and debating loudly.

She smiled softly as the last guy exited the building, towering over his classmates. Six foot four, constantly tousled dark brown hair, open brown eyes, a heart to die for: Nate was something very special.

He caught sight of her truck, said something to one of his friends, and bounded over to her, resembling an overexcited puppy, she thought idly.

"Hey, Lib, what are you doing here?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. Clearly, he'd had a good day.

"I'm you're ride," she smiled, slowly letting his good humor rub off on her.

He looked a little confused, "I drove this morning, I don't need a ride."

Now she was really smiling, "Well, Bobby's car died this morning and he sort of borrowed yours while you were in class."

His head swiveled to take inventory of the parking lot and sure enough his pint-sized clunker was nowhere in sight. He muttered under his breath, something rather rude about his roommate and friend, but grinned nonetheless, "Well, at least he sent someone to pick me up."

"Even me?" she teased as he climbed into the passenger side.

"Even you," he agreed as she put the old truck in drive and rolled out of the parking lot and towards the sinking sun.

* * *

They drove out of the city and wound their way alongside fields of cotton and wheat, in comfortable silence. He didn't need to ask where they were going or why, the night was still young and he didn't really care where he was as long as she was there.

He risked another sideways glance at her, smiling to himself. She drove with one hand on the wheel, while her long fingers on the other hand tapped out the beat of the song playing on the radio, the wind pulling her hair into a giant tangle. God was she ever beautiful.

Liberty Armitage had tumbled into his life years before when they'd both been a little more than infants, and she'd been his best friend since about the second week…after he got over being called Dumbo 'on account of his ears, not his brain.'

He'd figured that there'd been a compliment somewhere in all of that, and hadn't looked back since. Libby had gotten them into more trouble than he'd care to remember, from sneaking out to skipping class, he'd long ago given up on trying to resist her.

She'd been his first love; he'd been her first kiss (he didn't like to talk about Stephanie Peters cornering him in kindergarten), and he'd once entertained the thought that she might be 'the one.'

But only for a minute.

To call Libby a free spirit would be like calling a tornado simply 'windy.' She didn't stay with one thing for very long, she didn't like to keep her feet planted to firmly on the ground.

Her father had been a brute of a man, loud and with a tendency to be a mean drunk and she'd learned at an early age to let the things he said to her blow in one ear and out the other. She protected herself with her indifference.

And she always had the urge to run. He'd spent most of his summers watching her drive and drive, wondering when the day would come that she'd simply leave and never come back.

Once, she'd said that she loved him. It had been right after he'd started grad school, the air conditioner was on the blitz at her house and her father was home. It was late; she was stretched out across his bed while he sat at his desk bent over a stack of review material for his midterm the next day.

"You know I love you."

He'd been glad that he'd been facing away from her; it gave him a second to collect his thoughts, "What?"

"You're the best thing in my life."

"-Thanks? You mean a lot to me, too," he'd replied lamely.

That night, she slept over, but not in the way you might be thinking. Citing the fact that his couch smelled like Bobby's gym socks and was harder than a concrete floor, she'd snuggled her way on to seventy-five percent of his bed and they spent the night wrapped up together, where at least she got some sleep.

Nights like these happened on occasion, ever since they'd been kids, but nothing ever came from them. The next morning, she'd be gone, and life would go on like normal. Of course, he'd dated a handful of other people, so had she, and he had no right to be as jealous as he usually was when she showed up with a new guy.

The truck slowed to a stop at the top of a gently rolling hill, the highest spot for miles. Without a word, she grabbed her camera from the backseat and hopped out of the truck.

Snapping pictures of the onset of night was one of Lib's hobbies. She had a thing about the changing of the moon and the sun or something like that. Nate came to stand behind her and after a few minutes she said without preamble, "I'm leaving."

He nodded, surprised that she'd told him instead of just disappearing, "Why now?"

"The wind's calling me. I can't ignore it any longer."

He nodded again. She talked like this sometimes, poetic and nonsensical, but he didn't press further. They spent the rest of the night on top of the hill, so close to the stars they could reach out and touch them, wrapped up in a blanket in the bed of the truck. The next morning, she drove him back to the city and he kissed her before she drove north without ever looking back.

"You can always to come to me. Anytime, anywhere, I'll be there for you," were the last words he'd said to her as she revved the engine.

She smiled softly; sliding off her glasses so he could see one hazel eye and one sea-foam green eye, "Don't fight life, Nate. Let it take you to where it needs you."

But she never said goodbye.

* * *

_**Eight Years Later**_

"Brown cows do not make chocolate milk," Kensi Blye yelled for the forth time in half as many minutes, "they make white milk like every other kind of cow!"

Her partner looked closely at the picture of a brown and white cow on his bottle of chocolate milk, "Then why is there a brown cow here?"

"It's called _advertisement_. Have you ever even seen a cow up close?"

Deeks thought for a moment, "No…but if brown cows don't make chocolate milk, do strawberries make strawberry milk?"

"Have you ever heard of flavoring?"

Callen walked past his coworkers and smiled lightly at the random conversation. He considered stopping long enough to see how the topic had been brought up, but thought the better of it.

Did he actually want to watch Deeks and Kensi flirt? No.

Sam was nowhere in sight, probably seeking refuge in the gym, and Callen was heading that way when Hetty's voice stopped him, "Mr. Callen, a word please?"

His expense reports were late again, so he put on his best smile, "Good morning, Hetty. Another beautiful day in the city of angels."

Hetty didn't smile and Callen got the idea that this was about something more important than expense reports, "We have a situation. Get your team up to Ops, now."

Hetty was usually cryptic, but this was a little intense, even for her, "What's wrong?"

She was already turning away from him and marching towards the stairs and he had no choice but to follow. The rest of the team was already gathered in front of the wall-sized monitor when he arrived (minus Eric).

"Where's Eric?" Kensi asked, voicing the rest of the team's concern.

"Home sick. Laryngitis," Nell supplied.

"What's going on, Hetty?" Sam asked, still decked out in sweaty (and smelly) gym clothes.

"Play the video, Miss Jones," Hetty nodded at the Intelligence Analyst, "This video was sent to us from the NCIS San Diego office. It's from their downtown office."

The video began playing, starting off in a quiet waiting room type place. A blond woman in big sunglasses, shorts and a t-shirt rushed in the doors, glancing nervously over her shoulder. She basically ran to the front desk and breathlessly asked the receptionist, "I need to find someone."

The receptionist looked up, "May I ask who?"

"My friend, he works for NCIS. He said out of the LA office, but no one will admit to knowing him there."

"What's his name?"

"Nate Getz. He's an Operational Psychologist or something like that. Please, it's imperative that I-"

A popping noise cut off the woman and she crumpled to the floor, peppered with four or five different splotches of red covering her clothes.

Nell stopped the video and all eyes turned to Hetty. "A picture of this woman was sent to Nate at his current location but I haven't received a reply from him yet. We need to figure out who this woman is, how she knows Nate, and who shot her. I don't want to risk having him compromised."

"She's still alive?" Deeks asked, "Looks like she took quite a hit."

"Three hits to the torso, one in her forearm, one narrowly missing her heart. She was life flighted to LA County trauma center where she's listed in critical condition. At this point, there's a strong chance that she won't make it."

The team nodded grimly. "I've got her picture running through facial recognition," Nell said, turning to her computer, "I'll see if I can access outside cameras to see how she got to the San Diego office."

Callen nodded, "Deeks, Kensi, why don't you head to the hospital. I want one of you there until we can get an LAPD security detail on her."

"And we need her fingerprints!" Nell called out as the two agents left Ops, "The originals never made it here."

"Mr. Hanna, I have something else for you and Mr. Callen to do as soon as you're changed," Hetty said, making her exit from Ops, "I have a phone call to make in the mean time."

Ops was quite save for the sound of the computers running. Callen studied the woman's face, wondering what Nate, who'd always been the least secretive of the team, the most open about his life, might be hiding.

* * *

**Well, how'd you like it? Should I continue?**

**Reviews make me happy!**

**Striker**


	2. Chapter 2

**So…two followers for this story…but no reviews…so I don't really know what to think and I just decided to update!**

* * *

**An Undisclosed Location Somewhere In The Middle East:**

Nate plopped down onto his cot letting his long limbs stretch out after the day spent camped out in the back of a very small car. Across the room, the dancing screen saver of his laptop called to him to finish his report but lulled him to sleep just the same.

He lay there, weighing the importance of getting his work done versus getting a good nights sleep when the computer _ding_ed and the screen lit up with a new email. Groaning, he pulled himself off the cot and reached for the laptop.

Pulling it into his lap, he tiredly rubbed his eyes as the email slowly loaded. Halfheartedly scanning the note, he skipped to the bottom to see it was signed _Nell ;] _and noticed that there was a photo attachment.

He clicked on it and suddenly the screen was filled with a blurry face that might have just stopped his heart for a second. Memories assaulted him from every angle and suddenly the room was spinning and swirling and he thought he might be sick.

_Flashback: 1990_

"_Yo, Nate!" Libby's voice was loud and way to close to his ear._

"_Ahh!" he flew out of bed, tripping over his blanket and doing a face plant on to the floor. After she stopped laughing and he got himself untangled, he managed to find his voice again, "What do you want?"_

_She giggled again, "Nice pants."_

_He looked down and blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, his pajama pants we dark blue with little pink rabbits, "They were a gift."_

_She just starts laughing again, a beautiful sound, and soon enough, he's laughing too. _

_Flashback: 1995_

_The fading twilight behind the high school doesn't diminish the day's heat. He's perched on the seat of her motorcycle, something she'd dug out of the junkyard and managed to get running. _

_They had one hell of a fight that morning, screaming, cursing; the whole deal. And in the end, he'd been the one to come find her to apologize, just like always. The doors opened and a group of loud kids flooded from the building, singing and shouting lines from the play they'd been practicing. _

_Libby floated over towards the bike, seemingly not noticing him. She was dressed in her usual shorts, and despite the heat a long sleeved shirt. Then the fight came rushing back with strong clarity. The sick feeling came back and it must have showed on his face._

"_Six more months, then I'll be eighteen and he'll never lay a finger on me again," she said softly._

"_Why didn't you tell me before?"_

_She respond, just wrapped her skinny arms around his neck and he wondered why he hadn't noticed how thin she'd gotten._

_Flashback: 1990_

_The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm on Nate's back as he rode his bike down the road towards the neighborhood park. He crested the top of the hill and grinned at the sight of a girl in a blue tank top already perched high on the top of the climbing wall. _

_He pedaled as fast as his long legs could carry him and nearly crashed his bike into a tree before abandoning it in the grass to race to meet his friend. _

"_Summer's finally here!" he yelled as he raced up the climbing wall._

_Imagine his confusion when mismatched teary eyes met his instead of the gleeful smile he expected. "What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Since when do you cry over nothing?"_

"_I'm ugly."_

_His twelve-year-old mind wasn't ready to understand girl problems. But he did his best, "That's dumb. I don't think you're ugly."_

_She shrugged but refused to say another word, instead wrapping her arms around herself. So he tried another tactic, "If I buy you an ice cream cone, will it make you happier?"_

Nate scrolled back and read the email as fast as he could and devoured the words, not that they were making any sense. Libby in California? Last he'd heard…

He stopped reading and thought for a second. _You can always to come to me. Anytime, anywhere, I'll be there for you…_

He hadn't been there. For the first time he could remember, she'd actually come to him. And he let her down by being half way across the world. He had responsibilities, to his country, responsibilities bigger than himself. He knew that he couldn't fly back across the world just to see a girl.

But it didn't seem to matter any more. He sent a succinct reply to Nell:

_Her name's Liberty Armitage, formally of Houston. I'll be there as soon as I can. _

_~Nate_

* * *

"How do you think Nate know her?" Deeks wondered aloud as he returned to the room after a stroll down the hallway, where he had been 'checking out' the perimeter and a few of the more attractive nurses.

Kensi shrugged, staring closely as the comatose figure in the hospital, so thin and pale it was hard to differentiate between the sheets and the girl.

"Sister, maybe?" Deeks asked, sitting down on one of the hard plastic chairs.

Kensi rolled her eyes, "If you're blind, maybe. She looks nothing like him."

"Girlfriend?"

"Could be…"

There were a few minutes of silence before Deeks spoke again, "Nate and a mysterious woman? Never thought I'd see the day…"

Kensi shrugged again as if to say _who knows_, when there was a knock at the door announcing the arrival of the LAPD. After leaving instructions that they be contacted if anything changed, Kensi and Deeks headed back to headquarters, formulating their own theories on the seemingly open Nate and the mysterious woman.

* * *

"It's impossible," Hetty's firm, and maybe slightly annoyed voice rang through the OSP building, "He did not-"

She paused and listened for a moment. Frowning, she opened her laptop and pecked at the keyboard, "I'm checking."

A mumbled Russian curse, "I see. How did he manage to convince- yes, yes. I suppose. Alright, I'll talk to you later."

She slammed her cellphone shut and stared moodily at her computer. From high above her office, Nell Jones scurried back to Ops, questions dogging at her heels.

Clearly, Hetty had figured out that as she spoke, Nate had abandoned his post in the Middle East and was working his way back to Los Angeles. He was definitely not acting like his usual self.

The computers were busily working along in Ops, still sifting through tons of data. So far, all she'd come up with on Liberty Armitage was a birth certificate dated July 4, 1978 in Dallas, Texas. Her father's name was Charles and her mother's was Daisy. Other than that, zip.

But, Nell had an idea. "Hey, Gabby?"

One of the other part time Ops techs, a pretty girl with dark hair looked up from her station, "Yep?"

"Can you watch my computers for me? I need to run out to do something…and I don't think they'll be anything in the next half an hour or so."

Gabby gave her a perky thumbs up, "I'll keep an eye on them."

Grabbing her bag, Nell waved and took the back way out of the building. Hopping in her car, she drove as fast as she dared towards Eric's apartment. She had a feeling that she knew why Eric had 'laryngitis' and while she wouldn't have minded any other day, Nate was in trouble and he was going to need all the help he could get.

* * *

_Her body was one pulsing, throbbing source of agony. She tried to move, but the pain was a white searing light that kept her on her back. She wanted to call out, beg for someone to put her out of her misery but speaking was impossible. _

_But suddenly, he was there. Nate was right there, she could see him, his big brown eyes and heartrendingly comforting. He was holding her hand, and a cool feeling of relief began to spread up from the tips of her fingers. He was speaking, saying her name liked she'd always dreamed. And she was fading fast…_

* * *

**So, yo, I like reviews. **

**Striker**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey y'all! I'd back and I'd love to thank all my followers:**

Aniles

Gollum4077

JET1967 **(And thanks for taking the time to review! I really appreciate the feedback!) **

LikeAPheonix **(And I was totally stalking your profile and all I can say is that I read your favorite singers/bands and felt a kindred spirit...:)**

Ratoncita73

Rolodexthoughts **(Another awesome reviewer! Thanks so much!)**

MorningThief

**I think that we need a little one-on-one time with Nate, what do you think? And important FYI: FLASHBACKS ARE IN **_**ITALICS **_**if they aren't dated. Sometimes, I don't like to be overly specific.**

* * *

Of all of the ways to get from one point to another, military transport planes and camels definitely come in at the bottom of the list.

Nate closed his eyes as the turbulence over the Middle East tossed the transport up and down like a child's toy. He had never even thought about being 'airsick' until the first time he'd ridden in a non-commercial airplane. These days, it was nothing new.

For once, he was having trouble focusing on the erratic movements of the plane (and his stomach), rather his mind was dragging him around and around and asking questions that he didn't want to answer.

Like what had gotten Libby shot. And why was she mixed up with people who were willing (and gutsy enough) to try and take her out in a federal office building? Clearly, she'd been in deep trouble to come and seek him out. Libby had never been very good at asking for help…

"_Are you _sure_ you don't want help with that?" Nate asked from where he sat at the top of the stairs that led to Libby's new apartment. He'd been watching quietly for about fifteen minutes as she attempted to haul a medium-bordering-on-large bureau up the twenty-one narrow steps. It was mildly amusing; she was going at it with a frenzied determination, cursing like a sailor and working up quite a sweat. _

_First she'd push it up onto the stair and when it was fairly well balanced, she'd hop over the banister and cautiously scale the side of the staircase to get in front of the bureau where she'd proceeded to pull it up another step. _

_In the fifteen minutes, she managed to get to the third step. _

"_No! I told you I could manage by myself, I don't need any-" she paused and gave the bureau one hard shove when it got caught on the bottom of the railing. There was a sickening _crack _and suddenly both the bureau and Libby were tumbling back down the stairs. _

_Nate was up and flying down the stairs before the bureau landed on the floor, "Lib? Lib, are you okay?"_

_There was a groan and Nate might have stopped breathing for a second as he stepped over the wreckage of the bureau. But when he saw Libby, he couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face or the laughter bubbling up, "Lib?" he asked again. _

_She groaned and sat up. Somehow, she'd managed to tumble right onto a pile of blankets, sheets, towels, and clothes that she'd stacked at the bottom of the stairs when she'd decided that hauling up the bureau full might not be a grand idea. "Don't say it," she declared, taking his outstretched hand._

"_Say what?" he asked, grinning as he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist. _

_She looked mad for a second, but then her face broke out in one of her divine smiles and- _

A particularly nasty bout of turbulence literally threw Nate out of his daydreaming and on to the hard floor of the plane. He grimaced and painfully crawled back to his seat on one of the benches. The copilot must have seen his mishap and called out, "You okay, Doc?"

He gave a weary thumbs-up, "Yeah! Where are we?"

"Just over Japan! Gonna have to land and refuel in 'bout twenty minutes. Maybe give the weather a little time to clear up!"

He nodded and leaned back against the neon netting that line the walls of the plane. He should probably check in from Japan and let Hetty know where he was. Not a task he was looking forward to.

* * *

Across an ocean and five miles from the Hollywood sign, two agents were on a mission for the same woman and they were about as excited to check in as their companion in Japan.

"Hetty is not going to be happy," Sam muttered as he and Callen sat silently in his car outside of a sprawling estate.

"I'm more worried about what's she's going to do to us," Callen replied.

"I'd ask why she sent us here," Sam began.

"But I don't want to know," Callen finished. With a resigned-to-his-fate sigh, he reached for the door handle, "Buyer or real estate agent?"

"Buyer," he replied, following his partner through the open wrought iron gate and down the long drive. The house was a rambling Tudor mansion, complete with dense, English-style garden maze, a rather large pond, and a stone gatekeeper's cottage.

A tall, thin man with more than one weapon on his person stepped out of the afore mentioned cottage, "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"-Great access to the city," Callen began, waving his arm around and surreptitiously counting cameras. He pretended to notice the guard, "Oh, hey there. Just showing LL the house."

"And you are?"

"Martinelli, the real estate agent," Callen said, moving closer, blocking the guard's view of Sam.

"The agent that has been showing the house is named Macciotti," the guard replied, glancing suspiciously at Sam as he kicked one of the retaining walls.

"Macciotti, great guy," Callen said, grabbing the guard by the arm and leading back to the guardhouse.

The guard was getting really suspicious now, "He's a she."

Callen slapped his forehead, "Wow, I was thinking of her brother. He's in advertising; we belong to the same club, golfing buddies and all that. It's been a long week."

"So if Macciotti is handling the sale of the house, why are you showing it?"

Callen shrugged, "My client, my showing," he leaned closer, "You know who he is?"

The guard glanced at Sam and shook his head. Callen continued in a stage whisper, "He's that rapper. LL Cool J? Absolutely loaded. No way I was letting anybody else do this showing."

"LL Cool J? Never heard of him."

Callen shrugged and looked at his watch, "Yeah, not a lot of people have. I think he was big in the '90s. Trust fund baby, too. Whatever, he's got the money to buy a place like this and if I make the sale, I get a nice fat commission. Can I show him the house now?"

The guard sighed, "Yeah, I guess. Make it quick, owners are due back in an hour."

Callen grinned, "Thanks, man."

With a bounce in his step he returned to Sam and made a big show of pointing out all the great features of the house. Once they were out of sight, Sam asked, "Who'd you tell him I am?"

"Some rapper. Totally bought it."

The duo approached the house from the side, heading to where the blue prints said the den would be. They walked casually on to the stone patio, glancing at the impressive security, but careful to keep their faces as obscured as possible. The two French doors were standing open, and the strolled right inside.

The room was furnished in dark mahogany, the paneling, the bookshelves, the fireplace mantle, the desk. The four ceiling high windows were surrounded by heavy, red velvet drapes that were pulled back to let the sunlight in. The desk was stacked waist high in perilously discarded papers and the bookshelves were overflowing.

One entire wall was covered in antique weaponry. Rows of daggers were nestled in amongst long rifles and swords, which were placed around some painful looking medieval weapons. A _cannon _sat proudly in one corner. There must have been hundreds of different items in the collection.

"Wow," Sam said, pretty much summing it up, "Impressive."

"And Hetty wants us to-"

Voices from outside of the room cut Callen off, "-said he knew my brother? I don't even have a brother!"

The partners exchanged a look just as the doorknob began to turn.

"Hide!"

* * *

Nate sat on a tall oil can in a hanger in Camp Zama, an American Army base located just outside of Tokyo, watching as the rain plummeted down in sheets. The plane's flight had been temporarily delayed as a result of the bad weather.

Nate had opted to wait in the hanger with the flight crew, but in the last half an hour he had drifted away from the airmen's rowdy conversation. His cell phone had wound up in his hand some time ago and he was reluctantly coming to the conclusion that he was going to have to call Hetty and check in at some point.

Instead, when he opened his phone, he dialed a number even more familiar that that of Henrietta Lange. He tried to calculate what time it would be as the phone rang and by the fifth ring was ready to hang up when a breathless voice answered, "Hello?"

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"Nate! I'm fine, I was just half way down the sidewalk with my golf bags when the phone rang and your mother has the downstairs phone squirreled away somewhere again. How are you, son, back in the States yet?"

Nate smiled softly, "Not quite yet. Tokyo right now."

He could almost see his father nodding in his usual way, "Tokyo. Busy place I hear," there was a pause and Nate wondered if he had lost the connection, "Nate, is there something wrong?"

"No- why do you ask?"

"You've always been pretty faithful about calling home to check on us old fogies…much more than your sister, but you never call when you're out of the country."

Nate smiled again, "You've always been good at reading me…it's about Libby."

He could picture his father's face now. He was pulling off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, and rolling his eyes up to the heavens. He'd never been one of Lib's bigger fans, "What has she gotten herself into now?"

From the background, there was the sound of the door opening and closing, followed by a woman's voice. Nate's father put his hand over the phone and had a short, muffled conversation with his wife, "Your mother wants to talk to you and I have a tee time to make. She's much better at these 'relationship' things that I am anyways. Have a safe flight, we'll talk more when you get home!"

Before Nate could reply, his mother was on the phone, fawning over her oldest child and peppering him with questions. Fifteen minutes later, they finally got back to the topic of Liberty, "Your father mentioned that you had heard from her."

"Well. I didn't exactly _hear _from her. She came looking for me, in Los Angeles…but of course I wasn't there. And there was-" Nate paused, considering his words carefully.

"Out with it, Nate. I'm not a dotty old lady yet. I think I can handle whatever it is you have to say."

"She was shot. She's in critical condition and they don't know if she'll recover."

The was a heartbeat of silence, "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. That's why you're coming home early."

He nodded, not needing to reply.

"And you're probably feeling guilty that you were half way around the world when she finally admitted that she needed you."

Another nod.

"And all that psychology that you're so good at went right out the window. You can't blame yourself. It's Libby, as much as I love the girl, you know she's unpredictable and if she hasn't been, well,…"

"I know, I know," he let out a frustrated sigh, "I just wanted to talk, I guess."

"Well, thank goodness I'm very good at talking."

* * *

Hetty stomped out of her last meeting of the day, still peevish from the whole 'Nate Situation,' as she had come to think of it. She headed back towards her office to retrieve her bag and cell phone before going home for the day. She was all packed up and halfway out the door when she noticed the blinking message light, "Bugger."

She fiddled with it for a few minutes until her voice mail began to play. There were four messages: one from her dry cleaners, two from Director Vance that rambled on and could be dealt with in the morning and the last one was from Nate:

"_Hey, Hetty…it's Nate. I know you're probably pretty angry with me for just skipping out on the mission. Things are ninety…okay, maybe eighty percent cleaned up, but I think that Russo can handle things. I was scheduled to be back stateside in less than three weeks. As it stands now, we're in Tokyo now and expect to be home by tomorrow night. _

* Deep Sigh *

_The whole Liberty Armitage thing is sort of hard to explain over the phone, but we were neighbors growing up and we used to be really close. She'd been going through some things in the last couple years and we'd really lost touch. But I made her a promise that if she _ever _needed me, I would be there for her. And the one time she admits she needs me, I'm halfway across the world and she's getting shot in San Diego. _

_I'm going to do everything in my power to remedy that broken promise."_

* * *

**There! Happy Easter all! Next chapter hopefully before I have to go back to school on Tuesday.**

**Love, **

**Striker**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I'm back and hope that everyone had a great Easter. Thanks to my reviewer: **Rolodexthoughts**! Your review means a ton to me, I love getting feed back. In this chapter, we will FINALLY hear from the mysterious Libby Armitage…and make sure you read to the very end!**

* * *

"Hospital called, Liberty Armitage is awake," Deeks said into his phone as Kensi pulled into the parking lot, "yeah, we're going to see her now…when we leave…yep."

He ended the call and grinned at his partner, "Are you ready for this?"

"For what?" Kensi asked, shooting her partner a funny look.

"This conversation!"

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Kensi enquired sarcastically.

Deeks frowned as he followed his partner through the hospital lobby, "Come on, like you aren't _really _curious about what she's going to say."

Kensi shrugged impatiently, "They probably went to college together or something."

"Buzz kill," Deeks muttered, poking at the elevator button.

Kensi rolled her eyes, but didn't reply. When the elevator hadn't arrived a second later, she punched the elevator up button. Deeks grinned, reaching out and poked the elevator button as well. Kensi frowned.

_Punch. _

_Poke._

_Punch. _ "What's taking so long?"

_Poke. _"I thought you weren't curious."

_Punch. Punch. Punch. _ "I just hate slow elevators."

The door finally opened with a loud _ding _and Deeks couldn't help but grin at his partner's back, "Right," he agreed with another trademarked Deeks grin.

The next thing that Kensi punched wasn't the elevator.

* * *

Deeks tapped gently on the hospital room door. "Come in," a soft, hoarse voice called out.

Liberty Armitage didn't look much better than she had the last time the two agents had seen her. She was terribly, terribly thin; the bones of her arms and hands clearly visible. Her high cheekbones called attention to the unnatural flush coloring her cheeks along with the pale pallor of her skin. Her long blond hair was pulled back but a few stands were stuck to her sweaty face. She was resting heavily against the slightly raised hospital bed, eyes closed and lips pressed tightly together as if she was in pain. Each of her hands clutched at the blanket so hard that it looked like the skin over her knuckles might simply split open.

The two detectives gave each other a look and Kensi gently cleared her throat, "Miss Armitage? I'm Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS and this is Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD. We need to ask you a few questions about the shooting."

At the sound of her name, she opened her eyes and stared dully at the duo for a few seconds. Deeks did a double take at her eyes, one greenish, one brownish, then looked back at his partner, making exaggerated eyebrow movements. Kensi made a _stop it! _motion before moving closer to the hospital bed, "Miss Armitage? Are you feeling well enough to talk with us?"

She blinked and smiled softly, looking directly at Deeks, "Heterochromia."

"Excuse me?" Kensi asked.

"Your partner was looking at my eyes. It's called Heterochromia, two different colored eyes. Genetic, in my case. Can also be caused by injury."

Deeks had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, "Thought I was being subtle. My bad."

Kensi rolled her eyes and Liberty Armitage let out a soft laugh, giving the agents a glimpse of the woman. The laughter didn't last long, though. She took a deep breath and seemed to choke on the air, breaking into a painful sounding cough. Gasping for breath, her face was turning a frightening shade of red.

Deeks stuck his head out and called for a nurse, "Um, a little help in here?! Preferably before she coughs up a lung or other important organ!"

Kensi quickly filled one of the plastic cups with water from the pitcher and helped the other woman take a small sip. A nurse slipped in from the hallway and calmly took the water away from Kensi and helped Liberty sit up, "You need to take it easy, Miss Armitage, remember what the doctor said. You've just been through major surgery."

The nurse, a middle aged woman who didn't look like the type to take any crap, glanced at the two agents, "Visiting hours are over in ten minutes."

Deeks swooped in, "We just need to talk to Liberty for just…eight minutes. Then we'll be gone."

The nurse frowned, "You have five and if she starts coughing again, you're out of here. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Deeks said with a mock salute. Which might have been a little much considering the scowl on the nurse's face. But she left the agents with Liberty anyway.

"Liberty. It's a very unusual name," Kensi commented, sitting down next to the hospital bed.

"My birthday is the Fourth of July. At least it's not America," Liberty answered in a much softer voice, "Please, call me Libby, everyone does."

Deeks plopped down in the chair across from Kensi, "Hey, is your middle name Belle? Like Liberty Bell?"

Kensi rolled her eyes for the fiftieth time of the day, but Libby thought it was funny, "Liberty Belle Armitage, that's cute. No, my mother wasn't that much of a hippie; it's Grace. Liberty Grace."

"A strong name," Kensi commented with a smile, deciding that she liked this girl so far.

Libby's smile faded a bit, but she made no reply. Deeks glanced at his partner and decided to move the conversation along a bit, "So, Libby, you were in the San Diego looking for Doctor Nate Getz. Can you tell us how you know him?"

At the mention of the psychologist's name, Libby's face brightened, "Is Nate here? Is he coming to see me?"

"How do you know him?" Deeks asked again.

"He's a childhood friend," Libby replied vaguely, "Where is he? I need to see him."

The agents exchanged another look and Kensi was the one to reply, "He was working overseas, but he's on his way back here…Look, Libby, I know this is hard, but we need to ask you about the shooting."

"I want to talk to Nate."

"As soon as he's back stateside. Do you have any idea as to why someone who try to kill you?"

Libby seemed to fold back into herself, "I can't talk to you. I want Nate."

"Libby-"

" 'There is no hunting like the hunting of a man…' " Libby muttered, glancing around the room like she expected someone to jump out of the closet, "Nate-" the rest of her sentence was cut off by another series of coughs and the same nurse materialized to shoo the agents away.

"Come back tomorrow," she said, forcibly pushing Deeks out into the hallway.

"Well, that was useless," Deeks muttered darkly, sticking his tongue out at the nurse's back.

Kensi was staring at the doctor who had just come out of the room next door and was heading their way, "Maybe not."

"What-" Deeks started to ask whether or not it would be bad if he put a thumb tack on Nurse Nasty's chair, but his partner cut him off.

She stepped in front of the doctor before he could enter Libby's room, "Dr. Michaels? Can I speak with you for a minute?"

Dr. Michaels, who happened to be about thirty-two, handsome, and _very _fit, smiled suavely, "Sure, Miss-?"

"_Agent_ Blye, NCIS. And I'm Detective Deeks, LAPD. We need to ask you a few questions about one of your patients, Liberty Armitage," Deeks cut in, who had decided that he didn't like the way the doctor was looking at his partner.

Kensi glowered at her partner, but didn't make any comment on his rude interruption, "Can you tell us about her over all condition. I noticed she was very thin."

"Well, I'm not really authorized to give out information like that to anyone but family members," the doctor began.

Kensi smiled innocently, "We just need the basics so we can do our jobs and protect her from the people that put her in your care in the first place."

The doctor relented, "Well, alright. Unofficially of course."

"Of course," Kensi said, leaning closer to Dr. Michaels' buff forearm.

"As you noticed, she's very underweight and malnourished. But I don't think it's self-inflicted, like an eating disorder. She had several freshly healed scars on her back as well as signs of a recently healed compound fracture in her left arm. We did a rape kit test," the doctor's smile faded here, "and it came back positive. I'd say that the woman has been through a lot in the last few months."

"And the gun shot wounds?" Kensi asked.

"One bullet went through her right arm, no real damage to nerves or anything. That'll heal up fine in a few months. Two shots went right through her lower chest, but they also didn't hit anything vital or cause too much damage either. The fourth shot was the worst. It came within a centimeter of her heart and ricocheted back past her lung, nicking it pretty well. She also has a couple cracked ribs from the impact."

"But nothing life threatening?"

The doctor shrugged, "At this point, I don't think so. She seems to be on the road to recovery."

Deeks nodded, more serious now, "Thank you, Doctor. You'll keep us up-to-date on her condition?"

"You can reach us at this number," Kensi added, handing the doctor her business card.

"I will," the Doctor replied, sticking the car in the pocket of his scrubs and patting it reassuringly.

Deeks rolled his eyes and said the goodbyes and basically dragged his partner back towards the elevator.

"What's your problem?" Kensi demanded irritably.

"You."

* * *

Libby was in that pleasant place between wakefulness and sleep. She was feeling a lot better after her dose of pain meds, warm and ready to doze until Nate came for her. And she had no doubt that he would come.

She was just reaching sleep when the sound of movement in her room slowly pulled her back to awareness, "Nate?" she called out sleepily.

When he didn't answer, she opened her eyes and carefully sat up, straining to see in the darkened room, "Nate-?"

Before she could even breathe, a figure was darting towards her. With a force that almost knocked her unconscious, the figure shoved a pillow into her face and slammed her back into the bed. She fought back weakly, sinking into a panic when she realized she _couldn't breath_.

Just before she blacked out, she scrabbling fingers found the nurse call button. The world was spinning and she found herself praying, begging for Nate to come. _Please, please, I'm not ready to die!_

* * *

**Oh dear! Review me up and I might update tomorrow!**

**Lots of love,**

**Striker**


	5. Chapter 5

**You all probably hate me…"I'm gonna update tomorrow!"…I go to start the chapter = no inspiration…**

**Luckily, I did have three reviewers:**

JET1967**: You literally leave the sweetest reviews. We'd totally get along in real life. To answer your question, parts of the story are planned out. I have a few scenes in my mind and I build the rest of the story around that. ;]**

Rolodexthoughts**: You and your hugs ;] I think we'd get along well, too. You asked for Nate interactions, I give you Nate interactions. **

Hannah201**: Such a sweetheart. And be honest, who doesn't love Nate!?**

**And flashbacks are still in italics, and there's a lot of flashing back and forth in this chappy.**

* * *

Nate paused just outside of the doors to the NCIS offices, stretching in an attempt to relieve some of the stiffness in his neck. It didn't really help much. "You're going to have to talk with her sometime. Might as well get it over with," he muttered softly to himself.

Pushing the door back, he entered the OSP building as unobtrusively as possible. He kept his footsteps muted as he walked through the surprisingly empty foyer. Emerging into the late afternoon sunlight, he had expected to see an agent or two finishing up some paperwork, or maybe one of Hetty's other minions running around.

There wasn't a single soul in sight. Nate dropped his bag in the agent's longue room and took a slow walk past Deeks, Kensi, Sam, and Callen's desks. Deeks' was covered in the usual food wrappers and unfinished reports, Callen's desk was austerely clean.

Meandering his way towards the stairs, he was half way up to Ops when a voice rang out, "Going somewhere, Dr. Getz?"

Nate let his shoulders slump, "Just looking for you, Hetty."

He turned and followed the sound of her voice. There she was, calmly sitting in her chair, sipping a cup of tea while another sat on the far side of the desk, waiting for him. She hadn't been sitting there a moment ago, he was sure, but then again…Hetty.

Nate took a seat, but didn't look at Hetty. The silence was beginning to become suffocating by the time Hetty finally spoke, "Tell me about Miss Armitage."

"We grew up together," Nate said vaguely.

"I already knew that. Tell me more about the two of you."

Nate sighed, "It's not what your thinking, we weren't- we never…dated or anything."

"But you're in love with her."

_He's sixteen and he just finished kissing Libby. He KISSED Liberty. His ears were burning and he couldn't even look at her. She was going to think he was-_

"_Nate? Are you okay? Are we okay?"_

"_I'm sorry, I just- you were just-"_

_When he stopped, she reached out and tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. One hazel, one sea-foam green, "I was what?" She didn't look mad. Or even embarrassed. _

_He closed his eyes and gulped, "So beautiful."_

Nate flushed all the way to his ears. Still looking at his hands, he avoided Hetty's question, "I haven't seen her in over eight years…she's a bit of a drifter. Itchy feet."

Hetty nodded, "But you _have_ talked to her in those eight years?"

Nate nodded, "Yes. I got a postcard or two rights after she left, but then nothing for almost three years. Then I started to get letters, one about every two months."

_He's seventeen, sitting in the front row of his psychology elective totally enthralled by a guest speaker, an experienced clinical psychologist. He was talking about all the people he'd helped and really just getting to the good part when a paper airplane landed on his lap. _

_He turned his head slightly, frowning at Libby, who was sitting across the room in the third row. Luckily, neither the teacher nor the guest speaker had noticed the flying projectile._

_He quietly smoothed it out:_

_Oh My Dearest Nate-_

_I think I shall perish from boredom. Seriously, all this guy does is talk. And talk. And talk. And-well, you get the picture. I thought this was going to be a FUN class, why did I ever let you talk me into this?_

_Wait…..I was the one who bullied you into taking it. *Slap, slap* _

_If you wanna skip last period, meet me at the truck. We are in need of ice cream and I'll even buy!_

_Love and Kittens, _

_Libby_

Nate had stopped talking, letting the memories take him back. Hetty cleared her throat, "The letters?" she prodded.

"They came from all over the country, little towns up North, big cities down South. Every time I'd send a reply, I'd get it back, opened, with a 'Return To Sender' on it. She'd read them, then send them back. After a while, I just stopped replying."

Hetty nodded thoughtfully, "When was the last letter?"

"It came just before I left. It was the first one I'd gotten in almost six months. I was beginning to really worry…but she didn't make any mention of the break. She just talked about 'The New and Improved' Liberty."

_He's eighteen and Libby is screaming. Totally livid. Angrier than he'd ever seen anyone in his entire life. The rage is huge. It's like she's been building it up inside for years. Gone is the light-and-breezy Libby, in her place is a demon, hell-bent on revenge. _

_And all Bobby did was knock over a picture frame and break the glass. The photo of baby Libby and her mom before she died inside was okay. _

"_Lib," he said, crossing his fingers that she won't kill him, "the picture's okay, all you have to do is replace the glass."_

_He handed her the frame, clear of the shards of glass, and for a long moment, she just stares at it. She closes her eyes, but not before the first tear rolls down her cheek. _

_He glances at his friend, who looks like a guy who's just been verbally beaten. Nate waves Bobby away before he bursts into tears then moves closer to Lib, "What-"_

_Before he can say anything, she hurls the picture, frame and all, at his face with as much force as she can muster and calmly walks away. _

_She calls later that night to apologize, sounding so low he's almost afraid of what she might do. He swears up and down, over and over, for most of the night that he's not angry. Anything to keep her on the phone. Anything to make sure that she's okay. _

" 'New and improved?' "

Nate shrugged, looking up at Hetty for the first time in the entire conversation, "I took my first, basic intro to Psychology course in high school. We talked a lot about mental disorders. What they were, diagnoses, treatment, recovery. We'd look at scenarios and try to diagnose each 'patient.'"

He stopped, struggling for words, "And when we talked about the various illnesses, sometimes I'd relate the symptoms to real people…"

_He's eighteen, sitting in the front of his Psychology II class, one of only a few kids brave enough to continue on into the world of psychology. _

"_Class, today we're going to be talking about Bipolar disorder."_

_The more the teacher talked about the mood swings, depression, indifference…the more he began to wonder. For a long time, he tried to tell himself that he was imaging things. But the signs began to pile up…_

"She was officially diagnosed with Bipolar disorder about nine years ago. The signs had been there a lot longer, I saw them but I didn't do anything about it. She drifted for a long years before she settled down and finally got some treatment. In her last letter, she said she felt like herself again."

They sat there quietly for a while, but this time it wasn't suffocating. Hetty sipped at her tea, marveling at the psychologist and his story. He blamed himself for the things he hadn't done and now he was working so hard to make up for them. She considered reassuring him that this wasn't his fault, but it wasn't what he needed to hear.

"Why don't you go talk her?" she asked, smiling, "Kensi and Deeks went to see her this afternoon…It's past visiting hours, but I'm sure you can get around that some how."

He nodded, "Just what I was thinking."

* * *

**OH, PLOT TWIST! So that's where Nate got his interest in psychology…and we learned a little more about his REALLY complicated relationship with Libby. We'll see how the two interact…in the next couple chapters!**

**Oh, and remember how we left Sam and Callen? In the study of a house Hetty sent them to? Yeah, we'll check back in with them next chapter. **

**Review my lovies!**

**~S**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry guys, it's been a long couple of weeks. I'm really tried. And I passed my driver's test. FIRST TIME! **

**Here's an extra fillerish chapter…**

**Thanks to my readers and reviewers!**

* * *

Callen didn't dare poke his head out from behind the cannon to see where Sam had hidden himself as the loud real estate agent, Martinelli, stomped around the study with the guard from the gate at her heels.

"What the hell were you thinking, just letting them in?"

The guard sounded pissed, "The house is for sale. A guy came to look at the house. What am I supposed to do, shoot him?"

"You know that if Jared finds out about this, it'll be the end."

There was a beat of silence, then the menacing growl of the guard, "Are you gonna tell him?"

Martinelli's heels clicked across the floor as she dodged the angry guard and headed towards the window, "No," her voice had lost some of its bravo, "Nothing seems to be out of place and they're gone. Probably just some guys playing a joke."

The duo hustled out of the study and both agents waited a full five minutes after the _click_ of the doorknob to show their faces.

"Sam?" Callen called quietly. There was a grunt and Callen couldn't help but laugh as his partner untangled himself from under the desk.

Sam glared at Callen, "Let's just get the flash drive and get out of here, okay?"

Still laughing to himself, Callen turned back to the wall of daggers, swords, foils, and knives. Careful to make sure that there were no pressure sensors, he pulled a long, thin, and lethal looking knife from the top of the display, "Does this look like a Misericorde?"

Sam shrugged, "It sounds like what Hetty discribed:

"_A misericorde is __a long, narrow knife used in medieval times to deliver the death stroke to a seriously wounded knight. The blade was thin enough so that it could strike through the gaps between armor plates." _

The misericord that Hetty sent her two agents to retrieve currently resided at a small-time (but fairly successful) arms dealer named Jared Fairly. Inside of the handle of the knife was a flash drive that contained some classified information on some of MI6's more…controversial missions. It had been stolen from an MI6 agent in London and smuggled into the US to await publication.

An old friend in MI6 who asked her to try and retrieve the flash drive had contacted Hetty earlier in the week. Technically, the agent's (who remained nameless) hands were tied, since the missions technically didn't happen, he couldn't come after the flash drive himself. But if any of its contents got out…

Hetty owed him a favor, and now he was going to owe Hetty one. And she had plans to use it in the very near future, if her agents ever got back to OSP.

Callen tugged on the end of the long knife as Hetty had instructed and grinned at the satisfying _pop_ of the handle coming off. He dumped the flash drive into his partner's hand and placed the knife back into the case just as the sound of raised voices in the hallway reached his ears.

"Let's go. Now," Sam said, heading back towards the French doors with Callen close behind him.

They were three steps across the patio when the first guard appeared. "Hey, stop!"

Sam turned and sprinted one way; Callen went the other at the sound of half a dozen men approaching. He jumped over a low retaining wall and ran through a flowerbed, keeping low to the ground. So far, they were just chasing him and not shooting-

The first bullet just missed his left foot.

He threw himself forward pouring on the speed. His orders were to get in, get out, and cause as little damage as possible. Somehow, he didn't think shooting six guards of an arms dealer would be considered a 'little' damage.

He came to a set of stairs that led down into the main part of the back yard, towards the maze as well as the pond. He took a flying leap, landing on his feet and off before any of the guards had caught up to him. All around were thick green hedges…but wait.

He darted through the thin space between two of the boxwoods and right into the heart of the maze.

* * *

While Callen was being perused by six armed men (who admittedly had pretty poor aim) Sam was being chased by just one (who had considerably better aim). He raced around the house, flying over decorative rocks, lawn furniture, and one very tiny dog.

He was concentrating so hard on the guy behind him that he almost missed the one that appeared in front of him. Almost.

Making a reckless left turn, he was heading back in the direction he'd last seen Callen going. He glanced back for just a second, but when he looked back he was almost to the edge of the upper level of the backyard. About eight feet below was the main lawn and the big maze.

In a split second, the ex-SEAL was airborne, heading for the maze. He landed with a bone-jarring _thump_, rolling under a stone bench for cover from the hail of bullets.

He lay still for a moment, planning gout what to do next and catch his breath. He was just getting ready to run when a vise-like hand gripped onto his ankle and yanked him back from under the bush and through a thin gap in the bushes of the maze.

Sam rolled onto his back, ready to clock whoever had grabbed him, but a familiar sight greeted him, "G?"

"Come on, let's get out of here. I think the car's just on the other side of that wall."

Sam jumped up and followed him partner through the maze towards the back wall, "I'm surprised you were strong enough grab me like that."

Callen laughed as he pulled himself over the back wall of the maze and dropped down onto the sidewalk, "Trust me, it wasn't easy…I think I dislocated something."

"Oh, I'll dislocate something-"

Callen held up his hands in surrender, "Let's just get this thing back to Hetty before those goons figure out we're gone."

* * *

Nell marched up the two flights of stairs to Eric's apartment. She was sort of pissed and she stopped at his door, squaring her shoulders and focusing all her energy.

She knocked three times, gave him thirty seconds then really pounded on the door, "Come on Eric, up and at 'em."

There was a small crash from inside of the apartment followed by some incoherent mumbling. Nell was getting ready to pound on the door again when a very haggard Eric appeared. His glasses were nowhere in sight and his hair was sticking up in several impressive angles. All he was wearing was a pair of red boxers and an old t-shirt, "What?"

"Good morning to you too. Come on, I need you at work."

"Nell?" Eric asked hoarsely, still looking very confused.

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, it's Nell. Get dressed. We have a case."

"You said you could handle anything that came in. It's Monday, I told you I had plans for the weekend and wasn't going to be in today."

She shrugged, pushing him back inside and towards the bedroom, "Well, I might feel worse if I didn't know that you were playing _Modern Warfare 3 _for the last forty-six hours with your college buddies. But right now, I need you to get dressed and coherent enough to help me find someone."

"What's the case?" Eric asked grudgingly as he disappeared inside of his bedroom and closing the door.

"It's Nate," Nell replied, glanced around the room, counting four empty pizza boxes, five different six packs (all empty), and several other things that she didn't want to identify.

Eric's voice was muffled as he asked, "What about him?"

"Basically, a friend of his showed up at the San Diego office and got shot. He dropped everything and is flying back here to see her. Hetty wants me to tack down her movements for the last eight years, but I can't find a trace of her."

The door opened and Eric appeared with his glasses and dressed as nicely as Eric ever dresses, "Sounds intriguing. Did you find a birth certificate?"

"Yep, but that's it."

"Weird," Eric muttered, grabbing his phone and keys, looking slightly more awake. He followed Nell out of the apartment and was half way down the stairs before something dawned on him, "Wait, did you tell Hetty why I was…skipping today?"

Nell snorted, "Of course not. She'd have been here hours ago with a foghorn. I told everyone you had laryngitis."

"And they believed that?"

"Seemed to," Nell replied as they buckled into her car.

Eric looked slightly boggled, "What am I going to say when I show up?"

Nell grinned, "That's all on you."

Silence…then, "Hetty's going to kill me."

Nell nodded in agreement, "Pretty much."

* * *

**LINE-NBREAK**

**Well, I did say it was a filler. Next chapter I swear we'll get back to Nate and Libby. I did think that the Sam/Callen interaction turned out pretty good and that the Nell/Eric conversation was pretty funny. **

**Review please!**

**~S**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've returned. And I must say, I have some AWESOME reviewers:**

Rolodexthoughts: **Have I told you how much I like your user name? And your reviews?**

JET1967: **You are just the sweetest person. I'm blushing. And I can't believe that you used the words 'good grammar' when describing my story. **

**And to all you other visitors (There are 180 of you out there!), thank you for taking the chance on this story. I know how stories with OCs can turn out! Love, love, love!**

* * *

Nate sat at the end of a very long line of cars at the red light in front of the hospital, his turn signal clicking steadily. His fingers tapped in time, _one, two, three, four; one two, three, four. _It was hot, oppressively so, but the windows were down anyways.

He glanced over to the passenger seat, catching a glimpse of a girl in the sitting casually with beside him. Blinking once and shaking his head dispersed the specter; the seat was once again empty.

When he really stopped to think about it, he'd been seeing Libby here and there for years. She always seemed to be preying on his mind, waiting just around the corner for the moment he let his guard down enough so that she could slip into his thoughts.

After he'd stopped getting letters from Libby, and even before that, he'd made the decision to move on with his life. He loved Libby, but she wasn't here and he had a life to live.

He'd really thought that he'd moved on…but in reality he'd just spent the last eight years deluding himself into thinking that he had. The appearances of her ghostly self proved it.

He'd been "seeing" Libby almost since the day she had left. A flash of blonde hair half a block a way would send him on a wild goose chase after some unsuspecting college girl. He'd hear a truck backfire and turn to see Libby bent over the engine. She'd even visit him in his dreams.

His psychology background assured him that it was normal to see…well, ghosts for lack of a better word. After all, it was a textbook coping mechanism. To deal with a painful loss, the brain, or rather the imagination, conjures up images of people or places to help the healing process. Over the years, the images _had_ become less frequent, so he knew his theory must be right.

But…but there was another side of Nate. A side that wondered if it might be something else, something spiritual. A connection so strong that time and distance couldn't break it. He'd never admit to it out loud, that'd mean explaining that some of Libby's mumbo-jumbo-hippie talk had made some sense to him. _And _he'd have to explain Libby to whomever he'd been talking with in the first place.

Libby had always been somewhat fascinated by "soul mates." She'd talked about it almost constantly since she was eight years old. Nate had always brushed it off with out a second thought. No matter how much he liked her, he was a teenaged boy with no real interest "love." It wasn't until he was much older that he'd begun to wonder if Libby might have been on to something.

He'd been working as a clinical psychologist in the private sector for a little over a year before he'd done his first couples counseling session. Mark and…oh, what was her name…Amber. Mark and Amber Leighton. They'd been together for eight years and married for nearly six.

On the surface, they were the perfect couple, young, attractive and successful. But beyond that, the seemed to have simply fallen out of love. There was no passion, no spark.

In one of the last sessions, Amber had talked about the intensity of the beginning of their relationship, "_We were crazy in love…I thought this was something special. Something different than anything else. Soul mates."_

Her remark had brought back everything Libby had said on the subject like a tidal wave:

_Libby sat cross-legged in the grass next to the swing set in the neighborhood park, plucking dandelions and talking nonstop. Nate swung listlessly and did his best to listen and look interested._

"_Personally, I think a soul mate goes far beyond physical or even emotion passion," Libby continued, ignoring the bright red blush creeping up Nate's face, "They are so much a part of you that once found, they can't be shaken. They understand you in a way that you don't understand yourself."_

"_If there are soul mates, why is the divorce rate so high?" Nate asked. _

_Libby rolled her eyes, "People go through their whole lives without even finding their soul mates and do just fine. But somewhere in the back of their mind, they're always looking. And sometime that urge is too strong to ignore. We're all looking. All we want is to be loved, really loved…"_

He'd told the Leightons this as they were leaving after their last session. It didn't seem to help; they amicably divorced later that summer. And eventually remarried three years later. He'd gotten a generic wedding announcement in the mail with a short note on the back.

_Guess we were right the first time. Soul mates._

The stoplight finally changed and he followed the line of cars into the hospital parking lot. He parked in sort of a nervous daze and the long walk to ICU was a total blur. He was finally going to see Libby again, after _eight _years.

From what Hetty had told him (that Kensi and Deeks had told her), Libby was in pretty rough shape. She hadn't given him specifics, but Nate had plans to track down a doctor and force the whole truth out of him.

There was a lot of activity going on at one of the rooms at the end of the hall, the one across from Libby's room. He stepped around a medicine cart and strained to read the door number.

His heart sunk to his feet. The activity wasn't going on in Libby's neighbor's room. It was going on in Libby's.

* * *

**So, after much debate, I have decided to stop this chapter here. Another emotional Nate/Libby sort of thing, but next chapter is finally going to get back to the case. Yeah, I know, I sort of forgot there was one going on too. **

**Review?**

**~S**


	8. Chapter 8

**I heard some requests for a fast update, so I did the best I could. You should probably be forewarned, I have two weeks of real school and a week of finals left for the year. Things about to get realllllll hectic. Special thanks to my lovely readers and reviewers. I love you all sooooooo much. Really, more than kittens and sleeping. ;]**

* * *

"You didn't bring the misericord?" Hetty asked somewhat disappointedly as Callen deposited the flash drive in her hand.

"You didn't say you wanted the knife," Sam muttered.

Hetty shot the duo one of her all knowing looks, but shrugged, "Oh, well. The flash drive will have to do."

She frowned and turned back towards her office. Before she got very far, she seemed to remember something; "You two should make your way up to Ops."

The agents waited for a moment to see if Hetty would explain further before making their way up to Ops. Past the double doors, Sam and Callen found one perky Nell and one slightly hung-over looking Eric.

"I thought you had laryngitis," Sam commented, sending a sideways glance at Eric.

He shrugged, but Nell answered for him, "Well, when Eric heard that Nate's friend was in trouble he was super worried and since he was feeling so much better himself, he decided to come in and offer his services."

Callen smiled but didn't comment, "So, what have you two learned?"

"We tracked Libby Armitage all the way back to Los Angeles from San Diego. She was staying at a small motel down by the beach. It seems she hitchhiked down to San Diego, but we're not a hundred percent sure. There's about half an hour of the two hour trip that's missing," Nell said, pulling up a map on the big screen.

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but one look from Nell shut him up again. She continued, "She rode with a trucker from LA to a truck stop just outside of Mira Mesa. She went into the bathroom and showed up at the San Diego office half an hour later."

"Did you id the truck driver? He might have some idea where she went after they split up," Callen asked, studying the map, pictures, and video clips that were up on the monitor.

Silently, Eric clicked something on his tablet and a California's Drivers License popped up. Nell smiled approvingly, "Meet Charles Dixon. Kensi and Deeks are on their way to go talk to him."

Callen was lost in thought as Sam asked, "Did Nate's plane land okay?"

Nell nodded perkily, "Yep. He's at the hospital with Libby now."

"We'll go check out the motel where Libby was staying," Callen decided, drifting back from his daydream.

"We'll keep working on background for Liberty Armitage," Nell called as the agents headed out of the room. After the agents disappeared, Nell turned back to Eric, "Back to work."

Eric mumbled something and Nell's sharp voice echoed down the hall, "Excuse me?"

Sam followed his partner, smiling quietly to himself. Some things never change.

* * *

"Seriously, touch my stuff again, I will kill you slowly and painfully," Kensi hissed, leaning very close to Deeks.

If she weren't so angry, her current proximity would have been extremely distracting. But unfortunately for Detective Deeks, Kensi was very angry. Honestly, who knew she'd be so protective over sunglasses and Life Savers?

He opened his mouth in an attempt to backtrack as quickly as possible, but Kensi didn't give him the chance. She pointed across the street at a camper as a man emerged, "Look, there's our guy."

Charles 'Chuck' Dixon was a fifty-eight year old truck driver who had been working in the Los Angeles area since the late seventies when he finally grew out of his hippie stage…or rather ran out of money to pay for his slight drug habit. Aside from said drug habit, Chuck was a nice man; respected in his business and well liked at home.

His home was a slightly faded psychedelic camper parked in the back lot of a RV park Called Lavender Valley. It had been parked there since the early seventies when he'd won it in a poker game. A barely tamed jungle of a garden surrounded the place and a peace sign swung slowly back and forth in the wind under a porch-like addition near the door.

"Greetings!" Chuck called out, waving as he firmly planted himself in a timeworn deck chair under a tangle of unidentifiable vines that might have once nicely covered an arbor.

The two agents exchanged a look, both shrugging. "Hello," Kensi called as she followed a stepping stone path, each rock was foot shaped, "I'm Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS. This is my partner Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD."

"Chuck. Nice to meet y'all. Welcome to my humble abode."

"Looks like Bigfoot dropped by earlier," Deeks grinned as he followed Kensi down the path.

Chuck let out a loud, belting laugh that was surprisingly present, "Bigfoot, I'll have to remember that one. Now, as much as I love visitors, the only time law enforcement comes to see me, I end up spending the night courtesy of Uncle Sam," he extended his hands as if resigned to being cuffed and taken away, "What'd I do this time?"

"We actually just have a few questions for you," Kensi smiled, "I don't think we'll need to take you in."

"Oh," Chuck said, sounding pleasantly surprised, "In that case, have a seat."

He motioned to two more chairs and as the agents sat down he asked, "Lemonade?" motioning to a pitcher on a side table.

"We're good, but thanks," Kensi replied, answering for both of them.

Deeks looked slightly miffed, but moved the conversation forward like a good little detective, "You work for Maxwell Trucking & Equipment out of Los Angeles, correct?"

"Yup, been there since '79…or was it '78?" he shrugged, "Never was very good at dates."

"Did you have a run down to San Diego the at the end of last week?"

Chuck nodded, reaching for a glass of lemonade, "I did. A load of construction equipment. Why do ya ask?"

"Did you pick up a hitchhiker right out side of the city? Blonde, five foot ten, early thirties?" Kensi asked, pulling out her phone to find the picture of Libby.

Chuck didn't need it though, "Sure, Liberty. Or Libby. She said she preferred that, but I like Liberty. Strong name. She was walking on the 'On' Ramp to the highway. Looked like she needed a ride and a good meal."

"Can you tell us about your trip?" Deeks asked. Chuck sat back in his chair and began his tale:

_It was a beautiful Monday. Chuck had never been a fan of Mondays, rainy days and Mondays you know, but today was an exception. The 'oldies' station was coming in loud and clear through the radio and he was singing along rather loudly with Elton John when he saw her trudging up the highway On ramp, which happens to be illegal. Not that Chuck was much of a stranger to illegal. _

_She looked like she had the weight of the world on her thin shoulders. Every few steps she'd glance back fugitively and he could see how pale her face was from the driver's seat of his rig. He pulled off behind her and honked, sending her three feet in the air, "Sorry!" he called out the window, "Looks like you need a ride. Where ya heading?"_

_She glanced back down the road and her face paled even more, "As close to San Diego as you can get me," she called as she clamored up the side of the cab._

_Chuck leaned across the seat and opened the door for her, "Well, ain't that something, I happen to be on my there right now."_

_They'd made small take for a while longer, he'd learned her first name and that she was going to San Diego to try and track down a friend. They chatted about nothing in particular until they got ensnared in the early morning rush hour traffic. He'd been focused on not running over any of the tiny hybrids (no matter how much fun it might have been), and she out like a light. _

_A little over an hour later, Chuck pulled the truck off into a truck stop and treated the girl to a very healthy lunch of Doritos, a day-old premade sandwich, a donut, and a Pepsi. They'd talked for a few more minutes until she'd become agitated like she'd seen someone she'd recognized. She told Chuck that she could get into San Diego from here and thanks for the ride. He'd managed to hand her a twenty before she'd disappeared._

"And you didn't see anyone who might have been following you?" Kensi inquired.

Chuck shook his shaggy hair, "Nope. She just looked up, got real pale again and said she had to go. She didn't look too good before hand, I was sort of worried. Why are you asking about her?"

The agents exchanged a glance, "The friend she was talking about is a friend of ours and we're just trying to figure out why she needed to see him…she was injured the same day you met her."

Chuck looked at the agents, shaking his head and muttering about the poor state of the Union, but didn't press further.

The agents said their goodbyes and slowly walked back to the car, "Well, that was pretty worthless," Deeks grumbled.

"At least we know that Libby thought she was being followed," Kensi tried, "hopefully Sam and Callen did better."

Hope. Amazing how such a small word could hold so much.

Neither agent voiced their concerns. They were afraid that if they didn't come up with something soon, they wouldn't be able to protect Libby; there could be another attempt on her life at any time.

Little did they know just how founded their concerns were.

* * *

**There, like it? Review!**

**Love, Striker**


	9. Chapter 9

**I can't even begin to apologize for my serious absence. Finals? Yeah, I took 6 of them in three days. And not two a day, nope, two, three and one. Come on, who does that? THREE FINALS IN ONE DAY. And I'm in high school. As of right now, I don't know any of the grades but French (B- in case you care and I still managed to squeak by with a A overall). But enough about me, back to the story!**

_**From Chapter 7:**_

_The stoplight finally changed and he followed the line of cars into the hospital parking lot. He parked in sort of a nervous daze and the long walk to ICU was a total blur. He was finally going to see Libby again, after eight years._

_From what Hetty had told him (that Kensi and Deeks had told her), Libby was in pretty rough shape. She hadn't given him specifics, but Nate had plans to track down a doctor and force the whole truth out of him. _

_There was a lot of activity going on at one of the rooms at the end of the hall, the one across from Libby's room. He stepped around a medicine cart and strained to read the door number. _

_His heart sunk to his feet. The activity wasn't going on in Libby's neighbor's room. It was going on in Libby's. _

* * *

Nate stopped the semiofficial looking person he saw outside of Libby's room, "What's going on?" he demanded.

The nurse looked slightly startled, but recovered quickly, "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"She's my friend, I need to know what's going on," the nurse didn't seem like she was going to break down, until Nate added a shaky, "Please?"

She glanced around cautiously, "Well, she's- well, she's-"

"She's _what?_" Nate demanded, his pulse throbbing in his head.

"She's gone," the nurse declared in a rush, "disappeared. I was in her room fifteen minutes ago but when the doctor when in on his rounds she was gone."

Nate might stood there slack-jawed for a long time, but the sound of familiar voices shocked him back to reality. He looked down the hall to the frenzy of activity where Kensi and Deeks were in the process of interviewing the doctor.

Pushing past the confused nurse and a half a dozen other people, Nate stormed down the hall, "What the _hell_ is going on here?" he demanded, sounding mad and totally out of character.

Kensi looked mildly startled, but recovered quickly, "Nate, we just got here ourselves. We were going to call when we had something-"

"I was under the impression that Libby wasn't in any shape to just get up and walk out of the hospital on her own free will-"

"Nate, man, calm down-"

Kensi shot Deeks a '_really?!' _sort of look but didn't say anything as she took a very pissed Nate by the arm and led him away from the hubbub of the hospital room.

Deeks watched for a moment as his partner lead the tall psychologist down the hall and out of sight, kicking himself for his thoughtless words. "Calm down? Really, Marty?"

He turned back to the hospital room, taking in the whole room. Libby may have been there for almost three days, but considering she was in a state of pretty much unconsciousness, there were hardly any personal touches.

A watch with a cracked face rested in the drawer of the night stand next to about eight dollars in change, a hotel key, and a necklace. Deeks causally circumvented the LAPD officers congregated in the door way and picked up the items from the drawer. The hotel key was to the place that Sam and Callen were currently searching. Picking up necklace by its gold chain, he closely examined the simple clear stone pendant, wondering if it was a diamond.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Detective Deeks let out a deep breath. The stone didn't fog up, "Pretty expensive piece of jewelry," he muttered.

He picked up the watch last, turning it over carefully, inspecting the crack in face and noting that back wasn't quite flat. Picking at it with his finger nail through his glove wasn't as easy as one might think, but he managed to pop off the back.

What was staring back at him from inside was a very small, very active tracking device.

* * *

"I think that you should go back to OSP," Kensi said gently, sitting down next to Nate on a bench outside of the hospital.

Nate didn't say anything, just leaned forward and put his head in his hands. They sat like for a long time before anyone said anything, "I should have never let her leave," Nate muttered, almost to himself.

He stood up and turned to Kensi, "Call me if you and Deeks find out anything, okay?"

"Sure, but Nate, where-" the agent began but he was already gone.

* * *

It wasn't very hard to convince the proprietor of the Sunny Side Motel to let Sam and Callen into Libby Armitage's room. Just the mention of a health inspection sent him scrambling for the keys.

As they stood in the doorway as the owner slinked back to the main office, Callen was wondering if they should have even bothered, the lock didn't really appear to be in functional operation. They quietly cleared the room before setting to work.

There was a hard looking bed that had been slept in and remade and a rickety looking table with a stack of papers, several pens, a calculator and a beat up looking laptop balanced precariously on a stack of books. Sam moved towards the table while Callen continued to the back of the room.

The first thing that Sam noticed on the table was a stack of papers, securely folded and tied together with a broken rubber band. He opened the first one, surprised to see it was a photocopy of a letter that was signed 'Love, Nate.' He read through part of it, but stopped and moved on to the next one. Each one was a photocopy of a letter Nate had written to Libby in the last few years. The letters weren't love letters, but Sam still felt like he was prying. He put the letters down and reached for some of the other papers and the battered laptop.

Callen surveyed the bathroom, on the floor of the tiny room was a towel that was beginning to mold and the shower had several hotel sample shampoos. Next to the bathroom door was an empty backpack and a cardboard box with some clothes in it, "Wonder why she didn't bother to unpack," Callen wondered aloud.

Above the bureau, taped to the cracked mirror was a list of some sort. On closer inspection…Callen still didn't understand exactly what kind of list it was. It looked as if it had been made over several months or possibly even years; a single sheet of lined paper that was crinkled, faded, and written in dozens of different pens, pencils and even a crayon. The handwriting looked about the same, a feminine scrawl that legible but not very sensible.

Some of it was reminders, like '_Remember KL-98' _which was scrawled haphazardly in the margin in red pen. Other parts of it were quotes, some that Callen recognized, "_This above all: to thine own self be true" _from Hamlet, some song lyrics, some ramblings that made no sense. The entire half the sheet was endless columns of numbers, so many that it looked like a computer printout of some sort of code.

The last few paragraphs on the last page made the most sense…and were the most disturbing:

_It's like something out of one of those horrible mystery novels that I like so much. Every day at the same time, I find myself sitting in the park at my usual bench sipping hot chocolate (keepin' it low on the caffeine) and enjoying my breakfast and watching the people. Sometimes I sit there for hours, just watching. _

_Somehow, I feel like my therapist (may he rest in peace) would find this disturbing, but I don't. The most spectacular thing that I'd ever seen (until today) was a very adorable proposal. _

_It was early, about 5, but the sun was up and it was perfectly warm. The breakfast sandwich I was devouring was melt-in-your-mouth kind of good and the whipped cream was perfect (yes, some days the whipped cream is better than others). The men didn't see me at first, my bench is tucked out of the way, but I heard them right away. They were discussing something I didn't, and still don't, fully understand. _

_One of them had a funny accent, the other a crisp well-educated American one. To sum it up, they were talking about: Cupid's Heart Operation. Weird._

_They're watching me. Following me. I swear, I saw them again for the third time this week. _

_This is not the BD me, it isn't! THEY'RE WATCHING ME. The pretty lady in the park wasn't listening to music on her headphones. _

_I'm packing all of my possessions (haha) and hiding them somewhere safe that I can get to in case of emergency. I feel it, I'm talking (and mailing) and they know. They'll be here soon._

_Tonight, I-_

The last sentence literally trailed off the page like the writers hand had been slapped away. Callen carefully peeled the tape off the mirror and carried the paper gently over to his partner, "What do you make of this?"

Sam took the paper and handed another sheet that looked a lot like it to Callen. They both read in silence for a few minutes before their eyes met, "What is going on here?"

* * *

Libby sat very quietly in the room that she had spent the last two weeks. She didn't yell or fidget like she did in the beginning, heavens knows what unpleasantness that led to. No, she just sat quietly, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head resting against the wall. Eyes partially closed, she concentrated on her breathing until the room felt like a soft memory.

From the beginning, she began reciting all the letters she'd written and the replies she'd gotten. It was the only thing that had been keeping her sane.

* * *

**Oh, boy. Interesting chapter, yes? Since I am now in Summer Vacation Mode, I will update much more often! Yay!**

**If there are still any reviewers lurking, REVIEW. Pretty please? **

**~S**


	10. Chapter 10

**Badabing. I'm back after some significant internet issues. Thanks so much to my reviewers. This may be creepy, but I would totally love to hang with you guys. Chillin' out to the perfect summer playlist. Life's good kind of day. We'll all be so happy you won't care that this is a short chapter. Right?**

* * *

Ops was unusually quiet as Nell and Eric worked across the room from one another on different things. Nell had the tracking device Deeks had gotten out of Libby Armitage's watch while Eric combed through the laptop Sam had brought back from Libby's hotel room.

Eric sighed and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes, "I'm sorry."

Nell glanced around the empty Ops center, "For what?"

"For skipping work."

Nell shrugged without turning around, "Not a big deal."

"I feel bad though…I mean I know that you and Nate are good- friends and-"

Nell rolled her eyes, and cut off her partner, "Apology accepted. Let's get back to work."

Eric let out an inaudible sigh and turned back to his examination of the laptop. Clearly, Nell was still slightly miffed. It wouldn't have been a big deal any other day…alright, so it might have been, he _is _a pretty crucial part of Ops, but it had been a really slow last couple of weeks. Is taking one day off so horrible? Not in the real world, but around here it seemed to be. Devotion doesn't even begin to describe all the OSP agents' feelings towards their job. It was pretty much there life. And of course, Nell was no exception. Plus, it didn't help his cause that she was a rule-follower-extraordinaire when it came to things like skipping a day once in a while. She was probably that girl in high school that actually showed up on Senior Ditch Day so she wouldn't get into trouble-

"Hey!"

Eric jumped at the sound of Nell's voice, hoping he hadn't been talking out loud (which occasionally happened), "What?" he asked, trying not to sound flustered.

"I think I found something, come here."

Silently relieved, Eric abandoned his post, "Whatcha got?"

"This tracking device is wirelessly connected to the internet; it bounces around and picks up local signals in whatever location it happens to be. That makes it nearly impossible to track because it doesn't remember or store the internet sources it used."

Eric grinned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "But you managed to track it."

Nell grinned back, "I did. I followed the tracking device back to where it was sending its signal. It's an email account."

_High-five, _"Nice! Did you get into the email account?"

Nell nodded, "But that's where the trail peters off. It's a free email account set up at a library using a fake name. I could probably find where it's being accessed from the next time someone logs on. The history showed that it had been accessed multiple times a day but it's been inactive for over a week."

Eric frowned, "Are there any emails in the account that could help us?"

Nell shook her head, "Not really, all the emails come from the tracking device. No contacts, not even any spam. It receives an email update, with map, from the tracker every hour. If you want an exact location of the tracker, all you have to do is send a coded email to the tracker. Other than that, there's no outgoing mail either."

They stared in silence at the tracking device. Eric frowned even deeper and glanced over at Nell, "So, the question is, why did they stop checking on the tracker about a week ago? That was just after Libby Armitage was shot in San Diego then life-lighted to LA."

"They stopped tracking her because they knew where she was...and where she was going to be. The hospital-"

"Where they snatched her from," Eric finished grimly.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Callen's team stood gathered around Ops, frowning grimly as they listened to what Nell and Eric had discovered about the tracking device.

"Is there any way you can trace the ownership of the tracking device Sam asked finally.

Nell shook her head, "I tried, it was either paid for in cash or purchased off the Black Market."

Deeks picked up the watch, "What about the watch itself? Can you tell when or where it was bought?"

Nell shook her head again, "I also tried that. It's $6.50 at your local Wal-Mart. Over a thousand have been sold just in the last two weeks in the LA area. Pretty much impossible to see who bought them, but I'm running the list of credit card names through the system to see if anything pops up. As of yet, nothing."

The team was silent for a moment before Callen spoke, "What about the laptop we got from the hotel room?"

"Zip," Eric said sadly, "It's not even operational. I took it apart and it looks like someone dumped a gallon of something all over it. It also smells. I'd wager that someone rescued it out of a dumpster."

Kensi threw her hands up in the air, "Another useless lead!"

"Not all of the leads are useless," Eric said, waving a disapproving finger at Kensi, "Cupid's Heart Operation actually panned out."

"It's actually Operation Cupid's Heart," Nell continued as Eric pulled out his tablet and started typing away, "Cupid's Heart was a top secret project spearheaded in the early fifties."

"Basically," Eric said, pulling up photocopies of old papers on to the big screen, "a small group of scientists were trying to build indestructible soldiers who would stand up to anything, even-"

"A nuclear war," a voice from behind the group finished. Henrietta Lange sauntered up to the front of the room and continued her explanation, "Officially, Cupid's Heart was never a United States government sanctioned operation. But, many people in the government thought it was a good idea, so they 'unofficially' supported the project."

"Or they did, until one of the scientists came forward with information as to what was going on in the project," Eric said, pulling up more pictures and photocopies, "They were trying to build a human being that ran…almost like a car. Replaceable parts. _Regenerating _organs, limbs, even brains," Eric tried to look serious, but mostly failed.

"Sounds like a bad sci-fi flick," Sam muttered, frowning at Eric, who had the decency to look sheepish.

"Come on, you have to admit it's the slightest bit cool," Eric said, looking at Sam.

Nell rolled her eyes and continued, "Things were just beginning to get out of hand when the government stepped in, but everything about Cupid's Heart was unethical in almost every way. The US confiscated all the files and placed the remaining five doctors in prison for heinous crimes against humanity."

Kensi frowned, "Where are the doctors now?"

Eric handed Nell his tablet, "Of the six, two died in prison. Dr. Magda Petrof died in 1958 from pneumonia and Dr. James Red was killed in a riot in the early seventies. Of the three remaining in prison, Dr. Maurice Jenkins is currently in the infirmary at Jacksonville State Penitentiary with a terminal brain tumor, Dr. John Meriwether is in solitary confinement in Beaumont Federal Pen, and Dr. Joe Hazlett is in Marion, also in solitary confinement."

"And the sixth doctor was a Dr. Mary Drew-Scott," Hetty began, slowly pacing before big screen, "and Dr. Drew-Scott was a CIA plant. The head of the CIA at the time was one of the few government officials who was against the operation from the start. He sent Dr. Drew-Scott in because of her medical background and her operative status. Her cover remains in tack to this day; all the other doctors assumed that because she flipped on them, she stayed out of jail. She retired from the CIA about five years ago and is living outside of LA under the name of Mary Williams."

Deeks really wanted to ask just _how _Hetty knew all these tasty tidbits, but he refrained from asking and instead volunteered to go and interview the former CIA operative early the next morning.

As the partners were walking out, Kensi stopped and addressed Hetty, "Have you heard from Nate?"

Hetty shook her head, "No, Miss Blye, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

Kensi shrugged, "I just haven't seen him since this afternoon."

As the two partners walked out of the Ops Center, across town, Nate Getz slowly unlocks the door to his apartment, picks up the stack of mail, and headed inside. Most of the apartment is packed away and covered up, but he plops down on the couch, tossing the mail on the coffee table and stretching out his long legs.

He'd spent all afternoon prowling around the city and trying to calm himself down. Hours of brain wracking had led him to nothing. He had absolutely not idea where Libby where was, who would have kidnapped her, why she was a target…or any other answers. _How could he know so little after they'd been through so much together? _

He was disgusted with himself and he kicked the coffee table in frustration. A ragged blue envelope fluttered to the floor. When the lanky man leans over to pick up the envelope, his heart skips a beat. The handwriting is so familiar he can't get the envelope open fast enough.

* * *

**So, did anyone else see the genius of my Operation Cupid's Heart? No? Okay. Well I was reading this book about Greek mythology and cupid and it just sorta happened. **

**How about this, does anyone else think that the only reason that Nell and Eric aren't together yet is because Nell is the next Hetty and therefore she can have no happiness? 'Cause I think that Eric is totally on board with the whole lets-be-an-aDORKable-little-couple thing. And yes, this little conundrum is seriously annoying me. 'Cause Eric and Deeks and Nate are the only people I really like on LA. I'm a hardcore original NCIS kind of girl. **

**Yours, **

**Agent Striker **

**PS. Did you like Eric's little inner rant? I was trying something new. **

**~ Striker **

**PSS. Sorry about the cliffy ;]**


	11. Chapter 11

**I was going to make you all suffer and wait to see what was in the envelope, but since I'm such a magnanimous person, I decided against it. Thanks to my readers and reviewer **Rolodexthoughts**. I'm chillin' with you in my mind ;]**

* * *

Nate's hands were shaking so hard that he could hardly tear the envelope open. The blue envelope, which looked like it had been through World War III, had no return address and the post mark was too smudged to make out. It was also strangely bulky and when he dumped out the contents, the first thing that landed in his hand was a small key, like one that you might get from a gym locker.

The second was a folded, crumpled photograph that Nate had assumed had been lost long ago. He closed his eyes and he could feel the hot wind on his face again…

"_Come on guys, just one picture, please?"Annie, a girl from his Psych II class whined, "Pretty please?"_

_Libby looked like she would rather puke than pose for yet another picture, but she obediently grabbed Nate by the waist of his swim trunks and yanked him into a casual hug. From this distance, he could smell her sunscreen and a hint of her shampoo. His hands were awkwardly on the warm skin of small of her back, her blue string bikini didn't cover much. He tried to smile into the camera, but stands of her sun warmed hair kept blowing into his mouth. _

_The end result was a single copy of a picture that Annie deemed "not my best work," but he liked it. As usual, he was a pale, towering force with a goofy grin, but this time he was in red swim trunks that matched the sunburn on his nose. Libby, in her blue bikini, looked even more beautiful than usual. Her head was tipped back slightly, blonde hair framing her sunk kissed face. The look on her face was his favorite thing though. It was a look of pure bliss. Not the kind of energetic ecstasy that sends you sprinting just for the sheer joy of running…no it was something different, something everlasting. It looked like the feeling you get falling into your own bed after a long journey or maybe the taste of good food when you'll eat just about anything. _

_He loved that picture. It was one of only two that he kept from that Senior trip…the other one had been of Bobby's face when he'd woken up to find himself buried to the neck in sand. Some things are just priceless. _

The picture had been pinned to the wall behind his desk until the end of Grad school when it'd somehow disappeared in amidst of packing and unpacking and repacking. Apparently, Libby had snatched it and taken it with her when she left.

The back was dated in his familiar hand, but there was another faded note that he didn't recognize. _Go back here someday._

He carefully placed the ragged picture on the coffee table next to the key and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside of the envelope. It read something like this:

_Nate- _

_I hope this letter finds its way to you, Lord knows we've come a long way. Somehow, I've gotten mixed up in something totally unbelievable and I don't have the time to write about it now. I've left some things for you at the bus station in San Diego, the address is on the back of this envelope. Locker 623._

_I'm going to see if I can find you, but I have to leave by tonight, so if I don't see you, don't worry about me. _

_Love Always, Libby_

He read it over three times and checked the address on the back of the envelope four times. It was written carefully in the bottom corner in a black pen.

What happened next probably would have made Libby very proud. He didn't stop to think, he didn't bother to let his rational side talk him out of what he was about to do. He jumped to his feet, taking the key, note, envelope and picture along with him.

He raced down the stairs of his apartment and down to his car, nearly running one of his neighbors over as he screeched out of the parking lot. "Sorry!" he yelled out the window.

He was driving so fast that he was sure that he'd get pulled over, but he made it first out of his neighborhood, then out of LA, without being stopped. The whole reckless, crazy drive, he found himself praying. He could almost feel Libby in his soul. He was getting close, and every mile brought him closer to Libby's secrets. She was at the end of this road, he just knew it.

* * *

He made it to San Diego in a record thirty six minutes, roaring into the bus station and slamming his car into park right out front, ignoring the "DO NOT PARK" signs. He flew out of the seat, yanking his keys with him, and pushed his way into the busy bus station.

It didn't take him very long to find the lockers. Number 623 was located near the end of the last row, tucked out of sight of most of the bus station. Hands quivering in anticipation, he shoved the key into the lock and tugged on it until the locker popped open.

Maybe he was secretly hoping he was going to find Libby sitting inside of the locker, but he couldn't help but be disappointed by what he did find.

A cell phone. A cheap burn phone and its charger. He picked it up and that's when he saw the napkin from _Sadie's. _He turned it over, but it was an unremarkable, white napkin with only the bit of writing in red.

On impulse, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of first the napkin, the phone, and then the locker has he had found it. He sent all three pictures off to Eric, but before he could send a message explaining what the pictures where, he felt something cold and circular pressed into the small of his back.

"You can either come with us or die right here. It's your choice."

* * *

**Surprise! Cliffy! And yes, THE END IS NEAR!**

**MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**I do so enjoy being evil.**

**Love, Striker**


	12. Chapter 12

**SO, the author's note at the end of the last chapter gave you a hint as to what's coming. The End. If all goes according to plan, this will be a 15 chapter story. Personally, I feel that 15 chapters is the perfect length, it is fan fiction after all, not a novel. Also, I like to end my stories with zeros or fives if I can possibly help it…Don't judge. Thanks per usual to my awesome reviewers (**Rolodexthoughts **and **JET1967**) and my cool readers!**

* * *

Eric's phone buzzed, which was a welcome distraction from scanning security video feed. He rolled across the floor and snatched it up just as it fell silent. He flipped through the last three messages, but they were just pictures, no text. They were pictures of a cell phone and a bus locker…and they were from Nate.

"Hmm, a conundrum," he muttered, throwing the pictures up onto the big screen. The Ops center was quiet, almost everyone had taken the slight lull as a chance to go home for an hour or two to change, shower, and eat. It was close to midnight, and there wasn't much more to be done tonight. Eric however, was still sorting through a few leads that (so far) weren't going anywhere.

Deciding to do a little more digging before he called the team, Eric set to work. He cross-referenced the pictures of the lockers with locker manufacture's specs and determined that the lockers were made by SupermanLocks!Inc., out of LA. Most of their merchandise was located in bus stations, gyms, or airport. There were several subtle changes in the design of the locker that dated the ones in the pictures to be about five to eight years old. A quick check through the company's records (accessed after a quick phone call to the company owner…but on second thought, don't ask) said that there were only a dozen places that had over six hundred lockers installed. One airport had redone their lockers about a year ago, a bus station had lost their building in an earthquake, one place was closed, and a gym had burned to the ground six months ago.

That left eight businesses (one airport, three bus stations, and four gyms) to check out. Still too many to get through effectively. Eric was looking over the pictures again when something in one of the corners caught of his eyes. On the floor was a sheet of paper, and zooming in, a blurry schedule was visible, "Now if I can just clear this picture up a little-" he muttered softly.

"What picture?"

Eric never claimed to be an agent of steel like Callen or Sam, but it was still slightly embarrassing that Nell's casual question startled him a foot out of his chair (and not to mention the squeal). Once he was settled down again (and past the Incident) Eric quickly explained what he'd found.

Nell looked suitably impressed, "You got all that from three pictures?"

Eric smiled, feeling slightly better, "Yep, and now let's see if I can read this schedule."

Together, the two peered at the computer screen as the program Eric was running worked its magic. Slowly, a name appeared, _N. Independencia Street Bus Schedule. _

"Is that one of the places from your list?" Nell asked.

Eric was already reaching for the phone, "Yep. And it's about a ten minute walk from the truck stop where Chuck the friendly Trucker last saw Libby. Looks like Nate's onto something."

**LINE-BREAK**

Sam and Callen didn't quiet beat Nate's time, but they made it to the bus station in San Diego in good time. The place was nearly deserted; just a dozen or so tired passengers and a single grouchy looking employee. The duo quickly located locker 623, which stood at the end of one of the last rows, pretty much out of sight.

The locker was standing open and totally empty, "Nothing," Sam said disgustedly, "Why would Nate send the pictures with no explanation."

Callen shrugged, digging his phone out of his pocket, "It doesn't make any sense. Maybe Eric got something off of the security tape."

The partners waiting several rings before the harassed Tech Operator answered, "Yeah?"

"Eric, did you get anything off the video?" Callen asked, sending a dubious look at his partner.

"Yes and no. When I finally got the video working, seriously, somebody tell these people it's the twenty first century, there's no line of sight to the locker and that data is only saved for twenty four hours. So I didn't see Libby at the locker, but I did see Nate come and leave."

Something in Eric's voice wasn't right, "Was he alone?" Sam ventured.

"No. He was led out by two men with very visible guns. They all got into a SUV that was waiting outside. I lost the SUV, but I'm running Kaleidoscope, and I think I should be able to find it again."

Eric sounded stressed enough, so neither agent pressed the issue any further, "Okay, Eric. We're going to poke around here a little more. Call when you have any more info."

Sam was poking around the locker, but Callen had other ideas, "Maybe we should talk to the employees, see if anyone remembers seeing Nate…or even Libby."

Sam shrugged, "It's a long shot, but someone might remember something. Let's go."

* * *

At a more decent hour, Detective Marty Deeks and Agent Kensi Blye rolled up to a quaint little bungalow where former CIA operative Mary Williams (aka Dr. Mary Drew-Scott) lived. The whole ride over, Deeks had been chattering about meeting a real-live spook, "I mean, come on! How cool is it that she did all of these missions and lived to old age?! And her cover was never blown!"

As the two walked up the well manicured sidewalk, he was strangely quiet, "Spook got your tongue?" Kensi asked helpfully.

Before Deeks could stick out his tongue or either agent ring the doorbell, the red door swung open on well oiled hinges. Dressed like any other grandmother might have, there stood a woman in her late eighties who was very attractive once. She smiled at the duo, "Good morning."

"Good morning. Mrs. Williams? I'm Agent Blye, NCIS and this is my partner Detective Deeks, LAPD. We need to speak to you for a few minutes, if you have the time."

She nodded and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her, "My husband's just finishing up his breakfast…he doesn't know about my…former occupation. Am I safe to assume that this is about Cupid's Heart?"

Kensi nodded but Deeks just looked confused, "How did you-?"

Mrs. Williams smiled softly, "Henrietta and I keep in touch. She mentioned that you might be dropping by today."

Deeks sorely wanted to ask a few more questions, but he bit is tongue and let his partner do the talking, "We have reason to believe that some of the information from Cupid's Heart has popped back up and is being offered for sale."

Mrs. Williams pursed her lips, "That's disturbing. If those experiments were continued, fine tuned a bit, they could be extremely dangerous…" she trailed off, brows furrowed.

"Do you have any idea how the information might have gotten out?" Kensi asked, following Mrs. Williams as she headed over to a sunny bench in the yard. She sat and motioned to the agent and the detective to sit as well as she thought.

"I know for a fact that the original transcripts, lab notes, etcetera, are in a secure document housing facility in rural…well, that doesn't matter. But the fact is, they've been sealed inside the same building since the case was closed fifty some years ago."

Deeks started to ask about a possible leak, but Mrs. Williams held up her hand, "No. When I say secure, I mean so secure you couldn't even begin to imagine what 'security' for this place is. But there is one way…"

"Go on, please," Kensi urged.

"Dr. James Red…he had a son who was very young at the time of his father's arrest. I know that the boy used to visit often before his father was killed in jail. I've always worried that there were some copies of the notes made, and maybe Dr. Red shared the location or even the content with his son…who was also a doctor if I recall correctly. And Dr. Red Jr. had a son who became a doctor as well…I believe that he practices here in Los Angeles. Maybe you should look into them."

A few more minutes of conversation revealed no new clues, so Kensi and Deeks said their goodbyes and left the old spook to her new life.

"Did you get the feeling that she knew a lot more than she was saying?" Deeks asked.

"Yeah. But I don't know how much of it has to do with our case. It's like she had a life time of secrets that she really wanted to share, but couldn't."

Deeks grumbled, "You know what? I don't think I want to meet too many of Hetty's friends, but that's just me."

* * *

**A little filler, but I swear, the excitement picks up from here!**

**Review, it makes me write faster!**

**Love, Striker**


	13. Chapter 13

**So. I start everything with 'So.' But I digress. This story WILL be completed by the end of the week. By Sunday at Midnight, you will all know Nate's Fate. *Insert Ominous Laughter* MUHAHAHAHAHAHA! Wow. Yup, I'm just your average evil poet here chillin' with my readers and reviewers. Enjoy:**

Across the city, the lights burned brightly in the fading night. It would be light in a few hours, Nate mused, as the hood that had been covering his eyes since San Diego was jerked off and he was shoved out of the back of the SUV and out into what he assumed was an industrial garage. Aside from the lights from the city outside, the room was pitch black, but the two men with him seemed to know where they were going.

It felt like it had taken a surprisingly long time to get back to LA from San Diego. Well…at least he was assuming that it was Los Angeles. It felt like LA, the constricting air, the smog, the lights, even the feel of the night said LA to him. He was feeling strangely light headed, maybe that's why all these obscure thoughts were floating around his head. He couldn't really remember much of the trip after he was rudely shoved into the back of the SUV. Perhaps he hit his head harder than he had originally thought…

"This way," one the men cursed in a lightly accented voice, yanking the wondering psychologist by the tight piece of twine that secured his wrists behind his back.

Nate did his best to fight the fatigued that fought doggedly at the corners of his mind. He needed to be alert so he could figure out a way to get out of here and find Libby. Time was running out, he needed-

His meandering train of thought was cut off by one of the goons pulling him to a halt while the other one fiddled with a lock on a heavy-duty steel door. Once the door was opened, they unceremoniously pushed him inside and locked the door.

"He doesn't even know what hit him," one of the men said in his musically accented voice, shaking his head as his partner relocked the door.

"That's the beauty of it. They never do. He'll come out of it in a few hours, then we can see if he knows anything," his American comrade replied.

"And if he does?" the foreigner asked.

The other man shrugged in the darkness, "Either way, they'll both die."

* * *

"Got anything, Eric?" Callen said as he and Sam rolled into Ops at about eight thirty the next morning. Talking to the employees at the bus station in San Diego had been tedious, time consuming, and utterly useless. It seemed that they were running out of viable options.

The tech operator looked tired and stressed, but it was mildly shocking when he snapped back at the agents, "No. Do you have any idea how many dark colored SUV's there are between here and San Diego? It's not the easiest thing to tack you know. Especially when they stick to small side roads with no camera for Kaleidoscope to scan."

There was an awkward pause when Eric turned back to his computers and the two agents looked at each other. Thankfully, Nell swooped in, "Kensi and Deeks just called to check in. They talked to Dr. Drew-Scott. She's sure that the information couldn't have been leaked through the government storage facility that Cupid's Heart is located in or that one of the living doctors gave any information to anyone."

Callen shot Nell a confused look and she continued, pulling a picture and some other documents up on the big screen, "Meet Dr. Toby Red, son of Dr. James Red, one of the original members of Operation Cupid's Heart."

The wheels in Callen's mind were working furiously, "Does Dr. Drew-Scott believe that the current Dr. Red might be trying to sell the information that his father probably shared with him from Cupid's Heart for revenge?"

The intelligence analyst nodded, "That about sums it up."

"Do we have an address?"

"Yep, Kensi and Deeks are heading to his home now. We hacked into his work schedule and he worked the graveyard shift at the Santa Monica UCLA Medical Center in the Emergency Room. He should be home now."

Eric's triumphant voice cut through the rest of the conversation, "Aha! Got it! I found it, I found the car and I found Nate!"

* * *

Nate took two steps in the pitch black room and tripped, landing unceremoniously on his face. He groaned, and carefully heaved himself up, head spinning. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement, but when he managed to coordinate his neck muscles to move, whatever it was disappeared.

"You're losing it," he muttered to himself, working to get his feet back under him. It took considerable time and effort, but he managed to shakily climb to his feet and regain his balance. He yanked hard at his wrists and the twine snapped loudly. He let the string fall to the floor and took another two steps forward with his hands outstretched before he tripped again and tumbled head first into the wall.

As he sunk down to the floor yet again, he decided that the room wasn't much bigger than a large closet, windowless and with only one way out. "How do I get myself into these things?" he muttered as the darkness moved closer and closer.

There was the sound of soft laughter from the past, but it sounded off, slightly tainted by pain, "I've always wondered the same thing about myself."

A rush of sobriety washed over him like a wave as he turned his head left, then right, in a vain attempt to locate the voice in the dark. Was it a dream his desperate mind was playing on him? Did he even hope that it was real?

"Libby?"

* * *

**Well, there. Two more chapters folks. Review me up!**

**~S**

***Note that in chapter 9 I said that Libby had spent 2 months in the dark room but that's a typo and it's been fixed to say 2 weeks. Sorry for any confusion.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Man, I might even finish this story before the weekend. Well, now I won't 'cause I've clearly just cursed myself. Whatever. Thanks **Rolodexthoughts **and **JET1967 **for being such awesome reviewers! And remember, flashbacks are in italics. I don't feel like giving them a specific date.**

* * *

Groaning, Nate slowly opened his eyes stared at the blackness, head throbbing softly from its position on a crude pillow on the floor...it felt a lot like his jacket. He blinked, trying to decide if he was dreaming when the past week's events came rushing back at him.

The email.

Libby.

Coming home early.

Libby shot.

Libby missing.

San Diego.

The bus station.

The cell phone.

The men.

The dark room...with Libby inside?

"Libby?" he whispered, hardly daring to hope. His eyes were adjusting to the dark and across the room he could see a thin crack of light around what he assumed to be the door. From somewhere across the room, a movement caught his attention and he turned blindly towards it, "Lib, is that you?"

"Nate," It was more of a statement than a question, "This is not a dream. It better not be."

He couldn't help himself, he grinned joyfully into the darkness and chuckled, "It's no dream."

Then, out of nowhere, she was there. He smelled her (lemon and mint) a fraction of a second before her skinny arms were tightly clasped around his neck, "You came, you came. I knew you'd come. I knew it."

_He didn't like being awakened at two am for any reason, but you don't just ignore a call from a friend. He sighed as he turned onto Paul Harden's street where tonight's party was being held. It was the last house on the cul-de-sac, far enough from the other houses that no one had called the cops. Yet. _

_He parked the car a fair distance from the house and quietly walked up the street to where he could feel rather than hear the heavy bass pulsing. Most of the party was inside from the looks of things, but a few had spilled out onto the front porch and the yard below. _

_Sitting alone at the curb with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on top of her arms, Libby was easy to spot. Even in the warmth of the summer night, her arms had goose bumps and she didn't look up until he sat down and placed a jacket around her shoulders. _

_She reeked of alcohol and her heavy makeup was smeared down her cheeks like little channels for her tears. One hazel eye and one sea foam green eye. She sniffled and managed a smile as she let him help her to her feet, "Nate. I knew you'd come."_

"I'll always come."

* * *

Eric's announcement that he'd found Nate sent the entire team rushing to his side, "Whatcha got Eric?"

"I wasn't getting anywhere with Kaleidoscope, but it managed to pick up the SUV in down by the docks. I have it stopping at a building and I have footage of Nate. Kaleidoscope comes through again!" the tech operator grinned, giving his computer a fond pat.

Sam and Callen were heading for the door, "Nice work. Send the coordinates to my phone," Sam said, "We'll call Kensi and Deeks and have them meet us. Contact LAPD, we might need some back up if they have any squad cars in the area."

"On it!" Nell called at their retreating backs. She turned to look at her partner who was looking rather smug, "That was certainly easy. First Kaleidoscope had nothing then _bang_ it does. How does that work?"

Eric grinned sheepishly, "Well, I may or may not have borrowed some satellite technology from NASA."

Nell's eyebrows shot up, "Oh, you did?"

"You probably don't want to know any more. Deniability. If Hetty finds out-"

"Mr. Beale?!"

Eric paled and Nell just shook her head and reached for the phone. Some things never change.

* * *

"Who are you and why are you here?" the tall, American asked again as his friend menacingly cracked his knuckles from behind his chair.

Nate's head was still hurting from whatever they'd drugged him and being used as a punching bag wasn't making him feel any better, "I told you, my name is Nate Getz and I'm a friend of Libby. I came to find her."

The American frowned, "I'm not stupid. What government agency do you work for?"

"I have no idea-" Before Nate had a chance to finish his sentence, the other man stepped in and sucker punched him. Hard.

"I'm getting tired of him. He's not giving us anything," The American's partner grumbled, sneering down at Nate, "Can't we just-"

The American cut him off, "Not yet. He still could be of use."

While the duo was deciding his fate, Nate sat gasping for breath, trying to decipher what kind of accent the non-American had. He was dark skinned, but he didn't look particularly Middle Eastern and his accent sounded more European. Serbian, maybe?

"We can use him and the girl to prove to the buyer's that my father's technology really works. Get her out here," the American said, watching Nate with a detached interest.

_This was beginning to sound a lot like a horror film_, Nate thought tensely. The building was secure, high windows, only door in plain view. And he was in no shape to fight is way out of here and take Libby with him. The American's partner basically had to carry her out of the room they'd been locked in.

It was his first chance to get a good look at her after nearly eight years. She was thin, the thinnest he'd ever seen her, and her she looked pretty beat up with a fresh bruise forming around her hazel eye. Her clothes were dirty and ill-fitting, suggesting she'd lost the weight recently, but she met his eyes as the man pushed her into a chair.

Her eyes were clear, not drugged, not struggling internally to understand, not sad, not even scared; just a girl who had finally found herself. He liked this new look a lot.

The American walked up in front of where Nate and Libby were sitting, effectively pulling their attention away from each other, "My father was a brilliant scientist and doctor. He and some of his colleagues were 'unofficially' hired by the United States government to do some experiments. Essentially, they were trying to create an unstoppable human being. They succeeded. But then the government decided that this huge scientific leap was 'inhumane' and 'a crime against humanity' so they locked my father up and hid all of his research.

Before he died, I visited my father twice a week for nearly eight years. He told me everything. And I wrote it all down and saved it. And now, I am going to get back at not only the government that changed its mind on my father, but show the world what a genius he was. You two will have the honor of being my test subjects for the entire world to see. Miss Libby has already had a chance to participate in thought, haven't you, dear?"

Nate stared at the man standing before him. He had to be joking, this was insane. The man wasn't even talking very coherently, just babbling and trembling with excitement. Nate been at this place for just a few hours and now he was going to become a science experiment? He didn't even know this evil scientist's name. _It's all some sort of delusional nightmare. This is all happening too fast, _he told himself.

He dared to glance over at Libby as the Doctor and his companion started to set up a video camera and some medical equipment. The look on her face screamed at him. The clear eyes were still there and _he_ finally understood what _she_ finally understood.

She knew that this would be the day that they would die.

* * *

**Wow, creepy, right? I know this has a crazy-terrible-nightmarish quality about it, but it's supposed to. Nate has no clue what's going on remember, but Libby does. It's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde…except both the good Doctor and his mysterious counterpart are very evil. **

**As a side note, I'm just getting caught up on NCIS: LA. As in I just watched the season 4 finale. That was just disturbing. I don't think I can ever watch it again…Deeks at the end…*shivers* Ahhh. **

**WHY NCIS? WHY NCIS: LA? WHY NCIS WRITERS? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS FROM YOU? **

**~S**


	15. Chapter 15

**This is so sad. The last chapter. **** I've had so much fun working on this! Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers who took the plunge and followed this story. **Rolodexthoughts **and **JET1967**, you guys literally rock. I LOVE YOU ALLLLLLL!**

* * *

Kensi and Deeks arrived at the warehouse where Eric had traced Nate to before Sam and Callen. Kensi put the car in park and jumped out. She had the trunk open and was gearing up by the time Deeks joined her. From the way she was checking her amo and loading up on firearms, she was getting ready for a war.

"Umm, didn't Eric say he saw Nate go in with two guys? And the heat signature suggests that there are only four people inside, probably the goons, Nate, and Libby Armitage? Why all," he paused and tried to think of the right word to describe all of the fire power, "this," he finished lamely.

Kensi frowned at him, "Two words: 'evil scientist.'"

"Well, first off, that was four words-"

"You know what I mean."

"-and it's not like this is some comic book, he's just a dude. He'd still cry if you kicked him in his-"

If possible, Kensi's frowned deepened, "Stop. All I'm saying is that he could be dangerous."

"Any more so than any terrorist we've ever faced off?"

She shrugged tightly, "Maybe."

Deeks' face lit up, "Ohh, I get it. Kensi's afraid of the evil Dr. Jekyll!"

Kensi turned around and slammed the trunk, "For your information, Mr. Hyde was the evil one."

Deeks had just been trying to make her smile; it wasn't working out exactly as he had anticipated it would. He reached out and touched his partner's shoulder, "Hey, he's going to be fine."

She nodded as Sam's Challenger pulled up and parked behind them, "I hope so."

* * *

Inside of the warehouse, things were starting to look like a two-bit sci-fi thriller. After the good doctor set up a camera and turned it on, he sat his first victim on a long table, the kind you find at a doctor's office.

"Doctor," Nate tried again from where he was tied to a chair across the room, "You don't need to do this. There are other ways of making your father's legacy-"

"Hit him, please," the Doctor said distractedly, as he drew a bottle filled with a pale pinkish fluid and another one with a clear liquid from a small refrigerator at the back of the room and two syringes from a cabinet, "he's very distracting."

The other man looked like he would be happy to comply, so Nate hurriedly tried to backtrack, "Wait, Doctor. From one scientist to another, won't you explain what you're doing?"

These seemed to be the magic words, the doctor smiled almost gleefully, "Well, it's actually quite simple. This," he motioned to the syringe into which he'd draw a healthy dose of the pale pinkish liquid, "is a special serum designed to spread to out in the body and slowly shut it down."

"But I thought the goal was to create something indestructible, not simply kill the person," Nate cut in, desperately stalling for time and trying to think of a way to get out of _this_ alive and at least in close to one piece_. _

"Very astute. Once the body has reached a certain level, something a little deeper than non-REM sleep, we inject this," he held up the second bottle, "and this is where the true scientific genius comes in. This is, to put it in laymen's terms; a solution will basically wipe the body clean and help it be reborn as something that's a thousand times harder to kill. It almost laminates the organs to keep them safe. It's very effective, well," the doctor paused and glanced at Libby with a leer, "if the patient survives the second step."

"Survives?" Nate asked, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

The doctor shrugged, "It's rather harsh. Sometimes it over reacts and freezes the body. Nasty stuff. Let's hope you're stronger than that, right, lovely Liberty?"

The doctor's familiarity with Libby, the way he said her very name, made Nate's blood boil, and he knew he was running out of time.

Libby seemed resigned to her fate and from across the room, her bruised face smiled at Nate. She mouthed something, but he didn't dare believe what he thought she said.

"Wait, Doctor-"

"Enough!"

Without another word, the doctor's European companion belted Nate a good one while the doctor turned back to Libby. He roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her sleeve up; from across the room Nate could see the bruises. He tensed his muscles to attempt to stand and make some sort of distraction because there was no way in hell he was going to let that monster lay a hand on Libby-

_CABOOM! _The sound of breaking glass filled the larger room followed by a ghoulish greenish-gray smoke:

"NCIS!"

"FEDERAL AGENTS!"

"STEP AWAY FROM THE GIRL!"

"ON THE GROUND! I SAID, ON THE GROUND!"

In the explosion of FlashBang, Nate could only hear his coworkers shouting and firing on the room. He opened his mouth to scream, but he got a lung full of the malevolent smoke and started to cough.

Then, out of the gloom, past the noise, a figure like an angel appeared at his side. She reached down and yanked on the ties that bound his hands. "Lib- Libby?" he coughed.

He felt the bonds loosen and fall to the floor, then his savior grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the fire fight and towards the emergency exit. Once he was outside, it took him a few minutes to clear his lungs and eyes of the smoke.

Once he did, there she was, his Liberty. She cocked her head, and smiled softly with bright eyes; one hazel and one sea foam green. She reached out and pushed his unruly hair out of the way of his face, "Hello, Nate. Been a long time, huh?"

He didn't bother to reply. He just kissed her and let everything he been holding on to for the last eight years go.

* * *

Three days later, Nate and the rest of the team lounged in the Offices of Special Projects after debriefing. Young Dr. Red had died in route to the hospital and his friend, who had yet to be identified had been killed in the shootout. Information at the warehouse suggested he was simply a broker the deal with whoever came forward to buy the late doctor's 'technology.' There was no danger, all of the doctor's research had been collected, and mood was light, but the psychologist didn't seem to be all there.

One by one, the team had fallen silent, staring at Nate. It was Nell that finally broke the silence and asked the question that was preying on them all, "So, Nate. How's Libby?"

After the firefight was over, both Libby and Nate were whisked away to the hospital where they stayed until only earlier that morning.

"She's…doing better," Nate smiled.

"Is she going to stay in the area for a while?" Kensi asked as casually as possible.

Nate looked down at his hands, "No. She left."

"Left?" the whole group looked collectively confused.

"Yeah. She left."

Before anyone could ask any other questions, Nate stood up and strode quickly away.

* * *

Hetty found him hours later, long after everyone else had gone home. She didn't ask, she didn't say anything, just pulled out some good Scotch and poured him a double. They sat there for a while before he spoke, "I think I'm ready to go back to the Middle East."

She nodded, "That can be arranged. If it's what you want."

"It is."

Two more glasses of Scotch passed before Nate spoke again, "She said she loved me. Then she left. She just kissed me, and said she'd see me again sometime."

Hetty nodded, "Hmm. Not one to be pinned down, your Liberty."

"No."

"A wise man once told me that if you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't return, they never were yours to begin with."

Nate looked up, eyes slightly blood shot, "Will she come back?"

"I think she's the only one who can answer that, Nate. But don't give up on her just yet."

_On a Greyhound heading East, a blond woman with one green eye and one brown one watched the LA skyline fade behind her. She never said goodbye, just 'until we meet again,' and this time it felt true. She'd see him and his city again. _

_She pulled out a battered notebook and a pen:_

_Dear Nate..._

* * *

**Well, I almost didn't make it, BUT I DID! I hope this satisfied everyone; it feels a little rushed, but I wanted it to be a little vague. PM/Review with questions!**

**Over and Out, Striker **

**Thanks to wise men like Kahlil Gibran!**


End file.
